Flauraan, Abigail is 16, Sophie is 18
I find myself staring at all the notes and research littering the table with a hollow feeling in my chest. All of these options, all of this potential, all these futures Sophie has available for her; it’s all too immense. She sits across from me with her eyes shining, and the problem is that I can see all of these plans for her, I can see her living all those lives, but every last one of them is so far away from me. Not that it would change that much about our situation; for almost three years now Sophie and I have been friends long distance. For a long time of that I didn’t know if I’d ever see her again, yet now I had at least the surety that she wouldn’t intentionally disappear from my life forever. We are able to steal precious weeks at a time for sleepovers and adventures and stupid conversations. She is the most important thing in my life. She is a creature of light, especially when without her my thoughts are clouded by thoughts of doom, of the Weraynian war. I stare at the notes and almost felt sick. How could I be thinking these things? How could I begrudge her the exciting life she led? How could I selfishly, foolishly, contemptibly, long for her to sweep all these other options off of the table and choose me?
So when she asks me, for the hundredth time, “So what do you think I should do?”, I hesitate for a moment, the only real answer I have threatening to stumble past my lips. I give a noncommittal shrug and make an erudite observation about the comparative appeal of this or that experience, and as she follows the path of my finger to one of the notes with interest I resist the urge to grab her by the wrists and implore her, Sophie, stay with me. Please. I want you to stay.
Flauraan, Abigail is 15
I always loved traveling, and had thought that if Sophie had asked me to go with her on her mission through the universe, it would be an enthusiastic yes.
Since Halapatov however, I’ve been afraid. Even if she came back now and asked me to travel the stars beside her, I don't think I'd have the guts. It sort of feels like the whole concept of leaving home has been poisoned for me. After what happened with Riowyn… Well, I haven’t even left my village since Sophie brought me home. The universe has lost its spark for me.
Not that I should be thinking about Sophie; I know now that that is just asking for trouble. I’ll wake in the middle of the night and forget that she’s gone, reach out and find only an empty room. She left so abruptly, and abandoned so many small things in my house and I’ve found myself welling up with tears as I stumble upon a scrap of paper with her writing, or a half finished gadget, or even just open the cupboard missing the duffel bag she took with her. I am furious with her, I am worried to death about her. In my worst moments, I can’t shake that crazed look in her eyes on the hill that day, regress into the panic I felt as I begged her not to leave me, and in that state I feel sure that she is dead on some planet out there, and I will never see her again, never even learn her fate. For the first days, weeks, I had the hope in the back of my head that she would snap out of it and come back to me, that we would work through everything together, but so much time has passed now that I feel convinced that either she is gone or I don’t matter enough for her to come back to.
That thought stings more than anything else; but really I have gotten really good at not thinking it. I have other things to worry about, I have a life outside of her, I will be studying at a healing centre in a few years, and the Weraynian war could start at any moment, and I have my family’s business to help with, and other friends here on Flauraan. It helps that no one knows about what happened between us except Reeina, no one really has any reason to think that there’s anything wrong. And I’m glad for that. Even if I’ve lost Sophie, not that long after losing Leila, well, good riddance. I don’t need them, and I certainly don’t care about their absence anymore.
That’s what I convince myself on the good days, in any case.
Still, I have this aversion to traveling now, and though I feel like that will be hard to dismantle in its entirety, my first hurdle is facing a trip outside of my town, to the local city, a challenge brought to me by my friend Sierra at the learning centre one day.
“So Abigail, I know you've been looking into studying healing. I have too. There's so much to learn! It's enthralling.”
“Oh, that's really cool Sierra!” I say, genuinely excited at the thought of a shared interest with a friend.
“In a couple of weeks there's a two day conference in the city on healing; new medical technologies, pharmacology and so on.” Sierra informs me, smiling disarmingly. “We should go together, it could be fun.”
I am paralysed for a moment. I’ve always liked Sierra, always wanted to be closer to her since we were kids. We weren’t friends for a long time due to the incident with my powers as children, but since reconnecting she’s always taken a special interest in me, though we’ve mostly spent time together in group settings. She’s right, it would be nice for us to go on this trip together, nervous as it might make me to even think about the concept. It’s hard for me to defy the logic of it, the conference being related to healing studies and all. After all, I can’t spend all my time stewing at home in my feelings of doom and gloom about the war and - well, the war is the thing I can do something about. She is asking me so earnestly too, and the twist in my gut isn’t enough to dissuade me entirely.
“Let’s look into it,” I say, and sure enough, a few weeks later we are taking public transport to the city - not that it is a big city by any means, certainly not as elaborate as any I saw on Halapatov, or even the one my brother lives in, simply bigger than our small farming village - where their largest healing centre is holding a two day conference in its attached study hall, almost as an orientation to healing with a variety of interesting topics and technologies to draw in potential students. I am especially interested in the different medicines my people and the Halapatovians have been able to derive from plants, fungi and microorganisms, and their efficacy with the differing physiologies our system has. It’s hard for me to conceptualise the future at the moment, but it’s almost a dream to imagine Sierra and I attending here when we turn 16, maybe commuting from the village or even staying in a dorm for extended visits. We get to stay in one of the dorms for the one night we are here, a room with a double bed, which Sierra organised and asked very sweetly if I was comfortable sharing with her. I agreed to it without fuss, even though I’ve only ever shared a bed with…
Well, in the spirit of a resilient future, it’s a good idea to open myself to the possibility of sleepovers with new people. Sierra is an old friend, and incredibly smart and considerate and pretty. We’ve had such a nice day too. She hangs onto my arm as we are shown around the healing centre’s facilities, and after a long presentation at the end of the day where we take laborious notes, she leans on me with a tired affection. I smile down at her profile, and focus on her hair tightly braided into two plaits. I absentmindedly fiddle with one of them, and she catches a hold of my hand and kisses it.
Suddenly everything changes. My brain switches on and I am interpreting everything in a new light, and the way Sierra has acted since we became friends again makes a lot of sense if she is also attracted to me. There’s been a bit of relationship talk in my life lately, especially with Runer and Jayne having started dating a few weeks ago, and I know from group discussions that Sierra has kissed a few people before. I’ve never had much experience with flirting or dating or any of it, but this feels different to any friendship I’ve had before.
She is still holding onto my hand. I am trying not to tremble. “Is this okay?” she asks, and she is so beautiful, so considerate, so straightforward, nothing at all like- okay, it’s not helpful to make any comparisons. I’ve obviously been a bit distracted ever since the Weraynian scare, and just generally have been pretty isolated and not really thought about crushes or dating. But of course it’s something that I want. I’m Paladanian, and have known I’ve been attracted to women since puberty. I wasn’t expecting this right now, here on this trip, Paladanian flaw and all, but Sierra is definitely the sort of person I could see myself with. Everything is very nice and easy between us. So I respond sincerely, “Of course.”
She smiles widely at me and lifts her head off of my shoulder. “Let’s go have dinner,”
We eat in the healing centre’s cafeteria, the food only slightly different to the sort of thing we have at home. We are chatting and laughing and talking about our highlights of the day, and only a small part of me is terrified that I don’t even know what I have agreed to. Sierra grips tightly to my hand as we go back to our room, and I have no idea what to expect, how to navigate anything, but nonetheless my heart is racing at the possibilities.
I decide to follow her lead, as she has the more experience. She sits down on the bed and loosens her collar, then takes my hands in hers. It’s nice to have someone new to associate with hand holding.
Sierra looks at me, eyes flirtatious in a way that is new to me. I can’t help myself from looking at her lips; she notices and laughs at me, but it’s not mean. I feel a bit like a bumbling idiot, but it’s a nice feeling. It only gets better when she kisses me. It’s different to what I was expecting. She moves from gripping my hands and caresses her fingers up my arms as I lean in for a second, before our lips part again. I feel like I’m breathing heavier than I should be.
“This is nice.” she says, and I nod wordlessly, nervous system alight. “I’m glad you joined me for this.”
Glad is an understatement for me right now. I’m a little overwhelmed by it all, but I do my best to make my voice more flirtatious, almost seductive. “Yes, this has been a nice conference.”
She smirks at me and we are co-conspirators. “So you want to go over our notes now?” She is teasing me, I know, but the thought almost makes me wince.
“If you don’t have anything else in mind.” I say, absurdly cooler than I have any right to be.
“I’m sure I can think of something.” Her arms are tracing the sleeves of my tunic, and I figure I have the guts to go a little further. I tug the tunic over my head, and Sierra regards me thoughtfully. I’m barely even self conscious. She unbuckles her belt, unbuttons her shirt to expose bare flesh, and then half kneels on the bed beside me.
As she is tracing kisses down my neck and collarbone I say breathily, without thinking, “I've never done this before.”
She glances sharply up at me. “Huh, really?” I stare down at her, equally confused. “Do you want to stop?”
“No!” I say a bit frantically, and lean down and kiss her again, roughly this time.
She responds enthusiastically, hand reaching for my chest as we shift together on the bed. I wrap my arms around her and we roll, and it’s all a bit awkward as we shift and she discards more items of clothing. I end up laying on the bed as she straddles me. I stare up at her and notice that her braids are still perfect. I wonder how messy I look right now. She presses down on me, we kiss more and I let her tongue into my mouth. It’s all electrifying, and by the time we get tired and stop it’s not hard for me to drift into a dreamless, worryless sleep for the first time in a while.
I open my eyes to the unfamiliar room, and I am uncharacteristically confused. There is a body in the bed next to me, and I reach out and softly say, “Sophie…”
I immediately feel a rush of horror as I remember that not only is that definitely not Sophie, but Sophie is gone forever. How many nights have I slept in the same room as her, to have my brain wired like this? I spend one night with another girl and yet I can't get rid of the feeling that it's her I should be waking up next to. I hope that Sierra didn't hear me, humiliated enough by my own pathetic slip of the tongue, but then she rolls over and looks at me with such an expression of pity that I want to tear off all of my skin and hide in it.
“Sierra, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-”
“Aw sweetheart,” She props herself up on one arm and runs the other hand through my hair. “You're really hurting huh? I should have known that you two had something going on.”
“We don't!” I say in panic. “I mean we never- she is- was my friend.”
She raises her eyebrows at me and I realise how stupid I sound. “She's gone, anyway. I just associate sleepovers with her.”
“Gone?” Sierra inquires. It is incredible how much I don't want to talk about this.
“It doesn't matter. I just- I'm really sorry. I don't want you to feel like I was leading you on or anything. I really enjoyed being with you.”
Sierra squeezes my cheek and sits up properly. “Don't be silly! This whole trip has been so nice. Don't worry, I don't regret anything.”
I smile gratefully at her, the pit in my stomach diminishing ever so slightly.
“Come on,” she says, pushing me teasingly. “Let's get ready, still more to do today,”
That evening, after the bus drops us at the main junction in our village, we say goodbye before going our separate ways. We'd had a fun day, with more activities and studies at the healing centre to take our attention but it couldn't erase that feeling of awkwardness, like I'd fumbled something really special. Sierra can clearly sense the angst I’m feeling. She embraces me in the dark and I sink into her.
“Thank you for everything.” I say stiffly, heart burning.
“Don't mention it.” She says affectionately. “I'll see you tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay.”
As I start to head off, she calls, softly, “Abigail? I hope she comes back.”
I am startled, ashamed, afraid. I feel exposed and vulnerable. “Me too.” I choke out pathetically.
Sierra gives me a wave and says, “Well, if you ever want someone to kiss, I'm always here for you. See you!”
I blush furiously as she disappears into the night. I almost want to run after her, grab her hand, beg her, “Kiss me now!” And promise her that I'm not a freak, pining after someone who's gone. That I can be here and live a normal life and date her and there's nothing holding me back anymore.
Instead I trudge back home to bed and dream of drawing star charts with Leila.
Flauraan, Abigail is 22
I dream that I am in the woods near my home, in the clearing that I have often visited with Sophie, surrounded by flowers currently in bloom, blues and purples engulfing my vision. Ahead of me is the pond, and there is someone kneeling on one knee in front of it, peering into the water, hand resting on their leg. They have a relaxed curiosity to their posture, calm, as if they are looking at something remarkably mundane and eliciting little interest.
I float forward, feel instinctively that I need to know what is in the pond, what this person is so placidly observing.
My perspective shifts and it is as if the pond fills every corner of my vision, and there in the middle, surrounded by oval flowers and reeds, is me. I am not surprised to see her there, near submerged, staring blankly above her with her chin inclined pointedly, as if she has accepted her fate but wants to go out defiantly. Her long hair, so unlike mine, floats languidly around her. It is a curious sight. I know, as you know in dreams, that she is myself at 15 years old, and I feel an odd yearning for her. I was drowning then, but there was an innocence to it, I wish I could go back and let her know that I see her pain.
I reach out, hoping to touch her, to comfort her, and the other person looking into the pool grabs my arm, preventing me. I finally turn my gaze on this person and I realise that she is me too. She has shorter hair than mine, that must be freshly cut. It is me from those precious months prior to my involvement in the Weraynian War, and all that transpired within it. She has that dutiful and devoted gleam in her eyes, spurred on by fear, and an ignorance and patriotism that I have come to despise in my former self. I suppose I can’t blame her, really - I remember too well the terror that plagued me in anticipation of the Weraynian War, until I learnt just how ignorant I actually was. Yet the force with which she is stopping me, the cavalier way she is wanting to leave our younger self suffering, floating in that state, causes me to turn my ire on her.
“You coward.” I say with venom, throwing off her hand. She is immediately incensed, and rises to her feet, fists clenched.
“What did you say?” she asks, rhetorically. I square up against her.
“You’re a coward. You let her be like this, let us. We have spent so much of our life in limbo, and for what?”
“You tell me.” She spits at me. I find myself distracted by the solidity of her stance, her hands that show no sign of quaking, her focused eyes. I am so tired. “What have you amounted to? What have you done that’s made any difference at all?”
I almost want to tell her, to ruin her. Of what we did, and didn’t do. Of the pain we caused, the horrors we witnessed, the things that will haunt us forever. What difference did I make? To think that I was so focussed on that that I let myself be led into actions that I can’t ever take back.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Is what I say.
“You’re the one who’s the coward.” she tells me, and I clench my jaw. Feel my own fists tighten.
What the hell. How many chances does one get like this.
I unleash all the hurt and fury in me on this facsimile, this hated creature. She is taken aback by the intensity, is unprepared. Of course she is. I throw punch after punch and with every blow I land a bruise appears on my own body but this does little to stop me. I watch her crumple to the ground, and take pleasure in it. My skin feels like pulverised meat as I return to the pool, intend to complete my task, protect a version of me that deserves it. But it is too late.
It is too late for any version of me.
Flauraan, Abigail is 20, Sophie is 21
Warmth envelops me. The flattened grass feels lightly moist against my bare skin, with the more persistent clovers brushing against the sides of my feet. Filtered light dances across my eyelids. My head is sheltered within Sophie’s thighs. It is enough sensory input for my body to become a separate entity from my mind for a blissful few minutes. It is akin to a pleasant daydream, and there is a fuzziness to my every nerve ending.
I keep my eyes closed for as long as I can, sustaining the spell, and when I open them there she is; fiddling with flowers and clovers and lost in her own thoughts. She is wearing a singlet and shorts; the back of my neck is pressed against the flesh of her legs, and her arms occasionally brush against me. It is warm, so very warm, or maybe it’s just me. A part of me is ashamed to acknowledge that I find myself in the throes of desire - for Sophie, for her body, for pleasure.
Suddenly I have the desperate desire that this was a dream, a fantasy of some sort. I indulge the line of thinking, follow it down its tracks. I imagine that we are totally alone. She is looking down at me, desiring me the way I do her, tracing my body with her eyes, mentally undressing me. Her hands reach for me, find their way beneath the slip I am wearing in the heat, cup each of my breasts. She leans down and kisses me. Heat rushes through me. I tremble, arch my back. She withdraws her hands and begins tugging at my trousers, delicately and seductively inching them lower, teasing me. The positioning is awkward but the idea only arouses me further. I push the vision, imagine myself moaning through the messy kisses. I reach up and tug at her hair. When the scenario has fully satisfied me I envision the subsequent escalation, the discarding of clothes. I lead her to the pond and we submerge ourselves, entwine our bodies. In the caress of the water I am able to feel every part of her that I have longed to for as long as I can remember. My hands are on her bare back and her mouth is on my breast and we are thrusting and we are suffocating but that only deepens the intensity. When we surface her hair plasters itself to her neck. I lie wet on the shore and she straddles me, eyes piercing me and-
“Watcha thinking about Abi?” Sophie asks oh so casually and I am ashamed again. Then I wonder why I feel bad about fantasising about my own girlfriend, but it feels like crossing some sort of threshold that we haven’t crossed yet, that I have been doing a good job at not thinking about crossing. Yet the truth is that I want her, and that I want her to want me, but I can’t even begin to broach the conversation. I feel somehow that there is some criteria that we have to meet, as a couple. I shamefully let my mind wander to my one night with Sierra, how effortless it was. But of course there’s no use comparing that to what I have with Sophie.
The light is dazzling my eyes. “Just… you.” I say, which isn’t of course a lie, and she smiles, unknowing, and then she does lean down and kiss me. Then her hair gets in the way and she laughs and apologises. I shift the scenario, sit up and turn and face her, hold her hands in mine. This makes more sense right? This is more natural, surely. The feel of her prosthetic against my skin makes my mind wander again, but I try to force myself to focus. She has been so good to me, so patient and kind and thoughtful. The desire still isn’t leaving me, I am eyeing her neckline, the exposed skin beneath her armpits. Why does this feel wrong? I wonder if she fantasises like this about me, dismiss the idea. It is so difficult to think of myself as an object of desire.
“Your hands are so warm.” She says after a second. All of me is, I think. I am trembling for real now. “Abi, is something wrong?” What am I waiting for? What is wrong with me? This should be so easy. Why am I letting myself overthink it?
The worst part is that I know that even if she did desire me in this way she would never act on it unless I was the one initiating it. She has made it a rule not to presume anything with me. Which is very selfless but I want her to be selfish. To slip up. To put her hands somewhere we haven't fully gone yet and gauge my reaction from there. I don't want to always be the one who has to act.
This is unfair. This whole line of thinking is unfair.
She is still looking at me with concern, and I go for another half truth. “I'm feeling a bit unwell. Maybe it's the heat.”
“Oh no, Abi, you wanna go home?”
Home. Our home. I nod and we collect everything and make our way out of the forest. I do feel sluggish but it's nothing but my own weakness.
She helps me into bed and asks if I want her with me, and the truth is I want to grab her and go clawing and grabbing and licking but instead I shake my head, turn my back to the door and listen to her footsteps receding from the room. Now I am alone with my desires, but there is nothing that can bring me any relief.
Halapatov, Abigail is 14, Sophie is 16
Riowyn has gone to bed, and I guess Abi and I are going to try to sleep ourselves. I curl up near the wall under my red blanket, trying not to think about the day’s events.
Abigail and I say goodnight to each other and then she says, "I'm sure we'll be able to work out the source of this soon. Hopefully the ghosts can be stopped."
I feel that same feeling pressing in on me as when we faced the ghosts. I don’t respond to her. I don’t even know what I could say.
The ghosts said outright that they were here because of me. My machine, the teleport watch, had drawn them to Halapatov in some way. When we’d first arrived I’d noticed some interference but I’d brushed it off, assuming that it was a minor glitch.
I can't believe how stupid and careless I’ve been. The teleport watch has been so useful, and worked for me so well that I forget it's still an experimental device and we don’t know exactly how it works even now, after all these years of testing it. I mean, it’s had its bugs but I never would've guessed it had the power to do something like this. The ghosts. I feel so horrible. I feel like running and running and hiding and pretending none of this ever happened. I have no idea how to fix this. This is so far beyond anything I've ever dealt with before. Other dimensions, all the deaths; I can feel myself starting to shake, and I curl in on myself.
It all spins in on me as I lie there, shaking and trying not to give into the urge to cry. I am so completely tired but I don’t want to sleep. I don’t want to think about the dreams I’ve been having here on Halapatov. I would do anything never to dream of Aldred again. But then even that thought makes me feel horrible; he deserves to be remembered, he deserves everything. I clutch at my head. I miss him so much. I breathe in and out in and out in quiet short huffs for as long as I can bear to hold him in my mind. And then I push him away again, roll over, clutch myself and shake and shake and shake.
I am jolted by a soft noise from Abigail’s direction. Against my will I look at her, dreading her seeing me like this, but oh god thank god she’s not awake. In the dark all I can see is the outline of her breathing slowly in and out, a peaceful and elegant rise and fall.
In spite of how I feel I smile to myself, and then I think I'm going to start sobbing. She is so perfect when she sleeps, and though it's normally nice to stay awake and listen to her slowly breathing in and out in the dark when I'm having trouble sleeping, right now it makes me feel awful.
I feel like a complete stupid idiot. All of this is my fault. If I hadn't brought the teleport watch here, if I'd just focussed on my research, none of this would've happened. Or at least, not the way it has. People have died quicker because I brought an experimental device here because I was completely blinded by love for Abigail. Is love the right word? It feels right. All I know is that ever since I've met Abigail all I've wanted is to be around her and make her happy. We fought together on the Eridanus II and I watched her struggle and suffer and in the weeks after that any time she expressed sadness over anything I did anything in my power to fix it.
Which means I brought us here. To Halapatov.
My attempts to make Abi's life slightly better have made the whole world infinitely worse. I sigh and drag my hands down my face, feeling completely hopeless.
Tomorrow we will go to the astronomy centre, I remind myself, and we can map all of the teleport watches abnormalities and use that, maybe, hopefully, please, please, please, to... what? What even can we do? Find where the signals are strongest? Go there? Hope that once we're there we can somehow defeat every ghost on the planet? Why did I think tracking the signals could be any help? We barely survived an encounter with a few of them. I shudder, thinking of how I completely shut down when we were with them. It was so horrible. I was completely trapped in my own head when they were around. Ugh. I'm so useless. Just, disgusted with myself. I have no way to explain my own weakness to the others. Riowyn and Abigail seem so confident, so hopeful, that the three of us can make a difference in this nightmare. I wish I could share that with them. I think and think. I look at Abigail again. Something solidifies in me. If my wish coming to Halapatov was to help Abigail, then I need to shove down my own feelings of hopelessness and do everything I can to assist her and Riowyn, no matter what happens. I just hope and pray that I don't lose myself to my own weakness once more, but I know I will have little choice in that.
Eventually, I feel like I'm going to suffocate lying there on the floor, and I drag myself upright, quietly put my blanket away, tear my eyes away from Abigail, and go and sit by Riowyn's window. Outside the world is hazy and the streetlamps are making only the barest glimmer against the dark. I lean my forehead against the glass, close my eyes, and refuse to give in to how scared I am, knowing that before too long the world will wake up and the nightmares I've been avoiding in sleep will become impossible for me to run from in reality.
Flauraan, Abigail is 15
If I thought my life changed after the Weraynian Scare, it was nothing in comparison to the aftermath of what happened on Halapatov. I feel people’s eyes on me whenever I am in town. I catch a glimpse of the coverage of the… incident… on the datashare one day and choke down tears, realise what a foolish young person I seem getting involved in a mystery on another planet that ended so tragically.
Some days I feel like I am walking around with this horrible secret inside of me, and I am terrified of being found out. Everyone knows what happened on Halapatov, but I haven’t told anyone what happened with me and Sophie. I made excuses with my parents and they believed me, and even though they occasionally mention her in passing conversation they haven’t questioned why she left without saying goodbye to them. In her defence, she is quite an eccentric person, and exhibits many unexplained behaviours. Exhibited? It’s not worth thinking about. And of course any measurable downturn in my own mood and demeanour can be easily explained away by the simple fact of what I experienced on Halapatov. Not that I am unaffected by that either, but it’s more than that. I am bereft. I am afraid. I have had the most important people in the universe rip themselves away from me. What if I never see her again? What if I am forced to spend my whole life without her, not knowing whether she is staying away by choice or if something far more horrible has happened? What then? I see the years stretching ahead of me, eclipsing the impending Weraynian War. Every day of my life I feel doom hanging over me, and I genuinely have no idea how I am going to escape from under its shadow.
I have little choice but to go about my life as normally as possible, as if nothing is missing, as if I have experienced at best a minor setback. I have had too many weeks off at the Learning Centre and have plenty of catchup work to keep me busy. I reunite with my recently rewon friends and find ways to talk about the trip to Halapatov when they ask about it even though I’d rather claw my own heart out. Sierra looks at me so sweetly when she says it will be weird not having Sophie around, and I deftly change the subject when Jason starts to speculate at the adventures she might be having now. Venom eats at me. I find myself gravitating towards Jayne, and joining the silent study sessions she spends late at the Learning Centre, under the guise of my makeup work. There is no small talk in that environment. I attempt to find the appropriate level of distraction that also allows little conversation. I help my parents in the fields and the market an appropriate amount that raises no questions. At night I go into my room and I am alone and I stare at the ceiling as thoughts and images swirl in my mind until my mind gives up out of sheer exhaustion. I force myself to eat and move and achieve an automatic state of existence.
I find myself back in training with Reeina, against every instinct in my body. Before Halapatov, I freaked out here using my powers, responding emotionally to experiences that feel like nothing now. What would happen if I tried to use my powers in my current state? But refusing to return to training wasn’t an option, wasn’t part of the plan. I can’t deal with any questions, I will not, especially from Reeina. I need to put up my strongest front. So I would have to use my powers without panicking.
Before, I had mostly positive experiences with my powers, yet one unlocked memory from my childhood was enough to put me in a frenzy, cause me to lose control when practicing. Now when I think of using my powers my entire body tenses with memories, with the most recent uses of them. Reeina places an object in front of me, a small trinket. I reach out my hand, reach out with my mind. As I watch my outstretched hand I see another hand, summoning staar matter into a ball. I blink lazily, and watch the trinket rise, totally relaxed. As the vibrations of the air ripple through me I hear distant screaming, mind filling with the light of the ghost dimension. My mind clenches but my body remains untensed. Reeina praises my improvement. We move on to other objects, practicing isolating one out of a group, making them all rise at once. I am clutching the pale arm of a corpse as industrial lights blind me; I pull particles towards me in a desperate attempt to protect the others with me; lights dance across my vision; I feel the discharge of my powers as Sophie pushes me away and the electricity of the teleport watch displaces her forever.
I complete every exercise Reeina presents me with to an excellent standard, and remain unmoved by my emotions. I accept that I will feel like this unceasingly.
I am almost out the door when Reeina’s reticent tone pulls me up short. “Abigail,” I turn, force myself to look at her, appear unfazed. Reeina is uncharacteristically hesitant; usually she maintains a stateliness and clarity that is able to cut through directly to most people. “I understand you have been through multiple ordeals in an improbably short time and sense that you are not in the state of mind to discuss these things in detail as of yet, but it would be remiss of me not to offer a listening ear as your mentor if you require debriefing of any sort."
I smile, and am thrilled at the false sincerity I instill in it. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m recovering well, all things considered. It was unlucky to run into trouble on Halapatov so soon after the Weraynian Scare, but I’m pretty resilient.” I incline my chin ever so slightly, almost believe my own words. “And like you noted, my powers have improved so much since my trip. None of my previous instability.”
My smile threatens to fade as Reeina continues to hesitate, eyes boring into me in the way that only someone with Reeina’s powers can achieve. Do people feel like this when I look at them? “Abigail, I do not want to be unkind, but I know you better than most, and I’ve had the privilege of looking at the files from your encounter on Halapatov. The girl who died, I am certain this wasn’t just a random death you witnessed but that of someone you’d grown attached to. Resilience is an important skill, but it must be moderated with proper processing of emotion.”
Now panic is rising within me. It’s okay, Abigail, you’ve survived so many conversations like this. Just one more and then you can go home, and next time you have training, Reeina won’t ask anything else about it. Come on, you’ve shown so much resolve, don’t let it fail now. I have shown an astounding amount of resolve thus far, but I’ve failed to factor in the extent to which my abilities siphon energy and focus from me. I’ve managed to channel my powers in training without a freakout, but I’m now realising too late that I have left myself exposed to utter emotional volatility.
I’m not giving in just yet, but I don’t know how to keep talking without the facade breaking. I need to get out of here. What’s an appropriate level of distress I can show to convince Reeina I am processing my emotions at all healthily? Her words are swirling in my mind. The girl who died… someone you’d grown attached to… No I can’t think about this now, no! “I-” It’s like she’s a lump in my throat, that I could speak her into being and she would appear safe and whole in front of me, but no matter how hard I try I can’t make myself do it. I failed her, I failed her. Sophie’s face on the hill is burned into my brain. I lost her too. The only person who understands.
Everything crumbles before me and Reeina’s hand is on my shoulder and I don’t even remember how I ended up on the floor and I can’t believe I let myself be so weak and I am wrapped in her arms and I am lying on cold marble and I am clutching a mug and the warmth is doing nothing to permeate the numbness I feel and before I have regained my sanity I have told Reeina everything and she is staring at me at a loss and I think that maybe I am broken beyond repair if even she can’t reach into this mess and make it any better.
“It won’t feel like this forever.” Is the only thing she manages to say that rouses anything in me. I think of the bite of Sophie’s words as I tried to find the right words to get through to her, the rejection of any logic or hope of recovery. Does it help anything for me to follow her example?
I nod mutely at Reeina, and as I make my way home not long after I feel maybe 1% better. It won’t feel like this forever, I tell myself, and I almost believe it.
Flauraan, Abigail is 20, Sophie is 22
Living with Abi has been love and light and joy. I have often stayed with Abi and her family for weeks and months at a time, shared a bed with her, cooked and cleaned and explored and talked and helped and lived a day to day life. It used to be like a holiday but now it’s my home. I do a lot of my Alliance work from the study nook in Abi’s little house, and the furthest I’ve needed to travel so far has been within the same system, to Halapatov or Werayne. There’s a lot of work to do obviously, collaboration between an intergalactic sentient rights agency and a system of three planets that recently underwent a war and complete restructuring of its politics and powers was never going to be a simple task. A lot of it is very mundane though; almost boring. Resource allocation, board meetings, discussions about borders and representatives and priorities. Which planet should host an Alliance Embassy? Is that something they even want? What role can the Alliance play in the reparations to Werayne from Flauraan and Halapatov? What are the ethical and galactolegal implications of the dismantling of Aandrigo as a refugee camp? What trade and knowledge might the Staarus system have to offer the Alliance in the future? Very exciting stuff, very complicated stuff. Sometimes I get to draw diagrams. It’s all a bit intense. But all worth it because at the end of every day I collapse into bed next to Abigail, and cuddle into her for a few minutes before I remember that I need to remove my arm and make sure it’s charging correctly so it doesn’t short circuit the entire house. We’ll always talk about our days and make sure we spend some quality time together before bed and then we sleep for the next day when we do it all again.
For her part, Abigail has put aside all of her work and studies from before the war and has taken to working in the family businesses. She says she can’t cope with healing work anymore, and I suppose I can’t blame her. She is defeated nowadays in a way I have never seen her, but nonetheless a massive weight has been lifted from her since the war ended.
She is, to be fair, also involved in the post war restructuring work that the Alliance is helping with. She doesn’t feel particularly like she deserves such a position, but it’s the sort of thing they push you into when you play a role like we played in the war. Jayken, Alexa and Rojjel are involved too, of course, in varying capacities. Mickey and Beth even occasionally feature in a meeting. It’s quite surreal.
It’s hard to envision being apart from Abigail anymore, although I miss my friends and want to visit them, and also know I will need to leave for official Alliance business at some point. Her presence is such a comfort to me, and I know mine is for her too.
I guess Abi has been a bit on edge. It kind of reminds me of how she was before we started dating. And then it turned out she was really struggling with feelings for me, and was convinced I didn't like her back. Is there something I’m missing? Honestly when it comes to relationship stuff I’m completely out of my depth.
I haven't really questioned the progress of our relationship. I know it's not normal, but like, why would it be? Our story has to be as unique as it comes.
Being asexual hasnt affected things so far really. At least I don't think it does. The kissing is the big thing I think about, that I think is askew in me. Like how do you decide when to kiss someone? How often are you meant to do it? I'm always happy to do it but I just follow Abi’s lead because I don't really spend much time thinking about it.
When we first got together, on the space station, our only private place was our bedroom, so we were pretty much kissing every night. It was nice, and we'd just gotten together, so it made sense to me.
We hadn't even been together that long before we got separated, and I lost my arm while being held in a Weraynian prison camp. Then when we reunited I remember just the one kiss, at the hospital in a rare moment of alone time. I remember it vividly, being so caught up in the joy of seeing people I loved and going to follow Mickey through to the hangar but then Abi held me back. And she kissed me. Even though I'd missed her I never would have thought to do that then. But obviously it was something she'd been longing for, and didn't want to wait any longer.
And that was probably the right move because we didn't kiss for the rest of the war; the very next thing we learnt was that Jayken had been taken by the Staarus forces and we spent every waking moment after that fighting to find him. And then fighting to heal his broken body. And then Abi and I hardly slept in a room without him, determined to watch over him, protect him. And besides, we weren't really in a mindset to be doing couple stuff.
I know Abi feels a little guilty about the timing of us getting together, but I also know she was spiralling on that space station, and feeling like she had to hide her feelings for me was making everything worse. I don't blame her at all. I don't think we did anything wrong. It was a good thing in the midst of all the bad.
When we got back to Flauraan, after, there was a lot of kissing. In Abi’s room, at all times of the day. Her family was busy, and that gave us plenty of space. And before a lot of stuff was officially set up we were free of meetings and plans and had the days to ourselves. We would go for walks through the woods, and Abi would lead me to places that were significant to us and ask me to kiss her - the pond where we’d threaded flowers in each other’s hair before the treaty ceremony; the hill where she loved to stargaze and where we tended to teleport to and from Flauraan; the very spot in the forest where we'd met, smashing into each other when my teleport watch automatically redirected me, which Abigail remembered perfectly somehow; it could've been anywhere in my mind and I'd never be able to find it again. Just another part of the forest.
I sorta feel I’m never going to be able to keep up with all this.
It’s not super easy trying to adjust to a normal life, living one day in front of the other, no imminent looming threat that we have to face. I mean, it’s been better so far than I thought it would be. I love Abi and living with her has always been a dream of mine. But I have to admit I’m not suited for it. Not so much the mundanity of a life on Flauraan, compared to like the Alliance, but more the life of a girlfriend. Of romance. I’m scared that at some point Abigail is going to expect something from me that I won’t be prepared for.
I wouldn't say I've been putting off the discussion of sexuality or anything. It just hasn't really come up. It feels a bit too specific of a thing. Abi gets me. Abi knows me better than anyone. Surely we don't need to discuss it. I needed to have the label so that Beth would understand why we don't approach some topics the same way, but Abi understands things without them needing to be said. That has always been the way things have been between us.
Even so I’m scared. I trust her to know me but I know I can’t trust myself to do the same for her. And she deserves it, to be understood, to be loved the way she deserves. I’m worried about not being enough for her. I don't know how I'm going to approach this.
I get caught in a storm on my way back from the spaceport one day, and am soaking wet as I get to the house. I shake as much water out of my hair as I can standing in front of the entryway, and Abigail appears to greet me, and her eyes widen at the sight of me dripping everywhere.
She shakes her head at me and disappears back into the house, before reemerging with a towel, which she wraps around me and bundles me in towards the bedroom. The house is uncharacteristically empty; her parents decided after the war that they wanted to take some time off work and go travelling around Flauraan, and they finally got around to it at the start of this week (Abigail says she's done enough travelling for a lifetime, and she was happy to continue her mum's work in the fields anyhow).
Even with the towel I'm still very wet, and Abigail laughs and goes, "Let's get you out of those wet clothes," and I let her tug my shirt over my head and toss it into the basket in the corner of her room. I probably should be thinking of it as our room by now, but habit sticks.
I'm only really half present, not really in a rush to get changed, caught up in my own head, thinking about if my new prosthetic is likely to have any problems from getting this much water on it - probably not right? But I should be taking better care of it. I only zone back in when Abi makes a noise to get my attention and I focus my eyes on her face. I recognise her expression for when she wants to kiss me well by now and I incline my head to let her. We kiss sweetly for a moment and I lean back and smile at her, and then suddenly everything shifts.
She pushes me against the wall, presses her body against mine, kisses me hungrily. I'm a little stunned by it but I try to keep up. Her hands move up and down my body, touching my waist, trace the skin under my boobs. A part of me knows I’m supposed to be enjoying this, and I am, but I’m fighting panicked thoughts. The intensity of this is alarming, and it’s making me realise the thing that I’ve been half dreading is happening now. Sex - whatever that looks like - is the end goal here, right? And I have no idea what I’m doing. What I’m meant to do.
She slips her hands down the side of my pants, cool against my bare skin, which isn’t like, something we haven’t done before, but normally it’s in a much calmer sort of situation. Lying in bed, comfortable, not building up to anything. But right now with all of the intensity of whatever this is I recoil without choice and make a strangled sound in the back of my throat.
The room stills. Abigail takes her hands off of me. She stares at me, eyebrows creased, eyes swirling slowly. “What’s wrong?” she asks, sounding hurt.
I realise that it must seem like I am rejecting her, which is something I never want to do, and I try to fix things before she can withdraw from me completely.
“I'm asexual.” I blurt out and then, knowing that's not enough, wave my hands around unhelpfully as I try to explain. “I don't, um, have sexual attraction to people. Or at least I don't think I do. I'm sorry for not bringing it up earlier. I’ve never had sex, and I don't even know what that would mean.” I'm so stupid. Abigail is looking at me with her lips slightly parted and her eyes almost glaring. For the thousandth time in my life, I wonder what she's thinking.
****
What?
For a fleeting moment I am furious with her; for a nanosecond I am betrayed. I have this horrible selfish instinct to lash out at her for making me endure these tortured feelings for her for years with no relief in sight. But the anger dissipates instantaneously as I regard in a new light my girlfriend, my love, Sophie.
Being in love is an illusion which convinces you that you really do know someone as well as you know yourself, that they feel what you feel and you are totally in sync. As romantic an instinct this is, it is also just wrong. Sophie and I have known each other for so long that it’s easy to forget she is even alien to me; especially when I associate her with her more alien peers in the Alliance.
I doubt my own knowledge of humanity for a minute. Is asexuality the norm on Earth? Surely not, how would they reproduce? Beth, the other human I know well, is sexually active - but they're also half human.
“Oh,” I say, because the silence between us has lasted too long.
I can see the rising panic in her eyes as I process everything. I realise that she has been afraid to tell me this, but also that she didn’t expect things to escalate the way they have. I have to be selfless right now, and brave, and we have to actually talk to each other instead of letting things play out without discussion, the way we have been. I’m astonished we’ve made it this far considering our historied inadequacies at communicating. I was foolish to think that just because we are in sync with so many things, that our sexualities would work the same. We need to work this through. I take hold of her hands and open my mouth.
“But you enjoy… kissing?” I start out attempting to state a fact but find myself questioning even this simple thing. I am overthinking again, casting myself back to our first kiss, to every moment I've read as mutual love and affection. Did she want any of it? Has she been forcing herself to do things she hasn't had a particular inclination to simply because she knows I want it?
She traces my thumb with her robotic finger, smooth and cold. “Of course I do.”
“How do you draw the line on what is sexual attraction and what's not?” I inquire genuinely.
She hesitates. “I'm not sure.” She admits. “It just feels different. Honestly even though I like kissing you, I don't think I would have the desire to kiss someone without having met you. You're the only person I've ever thought about dating or any of it.”
This spreads through me, making me feel special, important, the way Sophie always does. At the same time I feel a misplaced guilt that I can't say the same back.
“So you've never kissed anyone else?”
She shakes her head and then cocks it to the side, eyes wide as if she’s just thought of something. “Have you?”
“Yes, my friend Sierra.” I say.
“Oh,” she says. “That’s nice.”
“It was while you were gone. After Halapatov.”
“I’m sorry-” she starts but I cut her off.
“No, I’m not trying to make you feel bad, I just wanted you to know. We- it was the first time I had sex.”
She nods, eyes a little distracted, and then takes a deep breath. “You’ve obviously been thinking about- about sex.”
I am being selfless. I am not going to lie to her or try to spare her feelings. “Yes, I have.”
“With me.”
“Yes. I guess you haven’t been thinking about the same with me.” I say, and as she opens her mouth to respond I correct the thought. “Or if you’ve thought about it, it hasn’t been easy or positive.” She grimaces.
“I don't want you to miss out on things because of me. I want you to be happy.” Her pleading tone makes me appreciate our relationship in a new light.
“You’re always thinking of what's best for me. I love you for it, but I don't want you to make yourself uncomfortable for my sake. That's not fair.” I say, placing my hand on her cheek. She reaches up and curls her fingers over mine.
“It's not uncomfortable.” She insists. “I guess I just don't think of it. So I was surprised, before. And like, I have no idea what I'm supposed to do. What you might want me to do. But I'm happy to learn.”
I smile at her, lowering my voice. “I’m sure we can figure something out.”
For a moment all is right with the world as we look at each other and smile. Sophie and Abigail, as the universe is meant to be. Then I realise she is acquiescing to me like usual and we haven’t addressed what actually happened.
“Sophie… I’m sorry for freaking you out before.”
“It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. I’ve been stressing about whether you were desiring me the way I have been you, and feeling like there’s something wrong with our relationship or with me because you didn't escalate things. But knowing that you’re asexual makes it all make sense. I should have just communicated instead of letting myself get desperate and acting like that.”
She bites her cheek. Eventually nods. “I should have told you sooner. But I was scared. I’m sorry. It’s not that I didn’t trust you. I just didn’t know what to do about it.”
“I can’t imagine it’s an easy thing to communicate.”
She retakes my hands. Her fingers are shaking and she looks astoundingly nervous still. “Maybe if you show me what you like, um, sexually, then I can try to do the same things for you. So even if I don’t like it, at least I can understand how it works a little better.”
I feel a little flushed as I imagine what she’s suggesting; the concept of teaching her about sex is tantalising, if that’s what she wants. I swallow thickly. “That’s a good idea, Sophie. Are you sure that’s something you’d be okay with?”
She nods but she’s still shaking. I regard her skeptically. “Yes!” she insists, too fast, far too fast. “What- how do we start?”
A shock goes through me as I realise she means now. I shake my head, squeeze her hand. “Sophie,” I say. “We are not doing anything right now, and not ever if you aren’t one hundred percent comfortable. We can talk about it some other day, but there’s no rush, okay?”
She nods, eyes glistening, and then she shivers and I look at her, half in her undergarments and thoroughly soaked still, and I realise she must be freezing. I curse myself for my own thoughtlessness and I make a decision.
“I’m going to draw you a bath.” I say firmly, and as she starts to argue I put my finger to her lips and insist, “No, please, Sophie, let me.”
She acquiesces to me without question, as she always does, but this time I am determined to use this quality for good, to make her let me take care of her.
Steam fills the room as I lean over the running water, stirring in oils that make the air smell sweet. The task absorbs and revitalises me, and when I hear movement behind me I turn to see Sophie standing in the doorway clutching her arm across herself, vulnerable in a way I’ve rarely seen her. I am suddenly so struck by the image of the Sophie I first encountered, the sixteen year old girl in the woods wreathed in energy, and awe inspiring to my fourteen year old self who instantly followed her into action, but now I’m looking at that girl through the perspective of adulthood and my heart aches for her. For the teenage girl who had lost so much and taken the weight of the world upon her shoulders, who punished herself for every loss, every perceived failure, who maintained a fierce independence because she knew nothing but the unrelenting onslaught of a universe that did nothing to protect her. I wish I’d done more to care for her all these years, since she’s never hesitated to look after me. I feel that piercing shame again, thinking about how long it has taken her to tell me something so fundamental to her life, to how she sees the world. I need her to know I’m not going to take advantage of her, that I want whatever she is willing to give me, and won’t ever feel like something is missing.
“It’s almost ready. Don’t worry, I’ll leave you alone once it is.” I tell her softly, hoping to assuage any anxiety that I am lingering to see her get undressed.
She stares at me for a moment, and I can’t help the way my breath catches in my throat at the softness in her eyes. “You don’t have to leave.” She says, her voice barely a whisper - very unSophie - and yet she still maintains that wonderful Sophie simplicity. She pulls off what remains of her sodden clothes, and I can’t believe how mundane it feels to behold her naked body. She smiles at me and I withdraw from the side of the bath, making space for her. She holds out her hand, simply, and I take it gently and help her step into the water. She sinks down onto her knees, enveloped in the foam and steam. I am overwhelmed by that image of her younger self again, and I lean forward to cradle her face with my hand. She leans into the touch, closing her eyes for a second, and then opens them and looks up at me like she is giving me her heart for safekeeping.
“Thank you.” she says softly, and I understand without elaboration the layers below those simple words. Thank you for understanding. Thank you for not hating me. Thank you for loving me the way I am. Thank you for not pushing. Thank you for letting me stay.
I know that there is no point in protestation, in insisting that she doesn’t need to thank me for these most basic expectations of someone who loves you. Instead I say, “You’re welcome.”
Day 3 of the Wedding
I’m already feeling overwhelmed with all these guests at the wedding, all these aliens, Sophie’s coworkers, people I barely know, when I see some guests arriving that makes everything in me stop. We talked about this, Sophie and I talked about having a place in our wedding for the people we’ve lost, and I agreed with her that it was important and necessary and it wouldn’t be right without them. But I didn’t realise how unprepared I was to see Riowyn’s family again after all of these years.
“Abigail, my dear!” Riowyn’s father greets me, courteous as I remember. I return his greeting, and greet the rest of Riowyn’s family who have made this tremendous journey to go to the wedding of people they barely know - but who were the last to see their daughter and cousin alive - and try to keep my composure as best as I can.
We make impressive small talk; where is Sophie? I’m horrified to be facing this on my own, but maybe her being here wouldn’t help.
“Oh yes, I have brought a token for the wedding - Sophie mentioned that you had a place for memorabilia?” He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a small book. I stare at it uncomprehendingly. He continues patiently. “This is Riowyn’s diary, and it contains the last words she ever wrote prior to her demise.” Horror thuds through me, but I nod and reach out for the proffered item. “It has brought me a lot of solace over the years, I hope it will keep her memory alive for you both, as you asked.” I clutch the book in my hand, feeling terrified.
“We miss her terribly.” I say softly, and he pats me on the shoulder.
“I know, my dear, as do I.” He hesitates. “Perhaps you should read the last entry before Sophie does; I know she struggled terribly at the funeral and I hope Riowyn's memory will be a comfort rather than an added burden."
I nod again, and then find my voice. "Thank you again, for coming to the wedding, and for bringing something for her."
He returns the thanks effusively, pats me on the shoulder again, and moves off to find Sophie. I should probably have tried to help but instead I stand there with Riowyn's diary, Riowyn's diary, and though I'd rather bury the memories I know I have to read it. I owe her and Sophie that much. I make my way towards the area we've established for our dead loved ones, and I open the diary, delicately, fearing to damage the precious artefact, and begin to read. The final entry assaults me and I tremble even at the opening words, written clearly and elegantly in faded purple ink.
I feel like my life is about to change. I’ve met these two young girls, aliens. One of them is a proper alien from lightyears away, and the other is from Flauraan. They were involved in the Weraynian Scare last month, do you remember that? I hope there haven’t been more by the time you reread this. Their names are Abigail and Sophie and they are just the most astounding people. They are so young, still teenagers, but intelligent, thoughtful and brave. Well they’d have to be, given what they’ve been through. Sophie is so interesting, she travels the galaxies with a teleporter and does research for her planet. Abigail, too, is so deeply fascinating. She has powers that function similarly to Halapatovians. I’ve never heard of that in a Paladanian, but anything’s possible, right? She’s so insightful too. I am so lucky to have met such wonderful young women. I’ve known them only a couple of days but I feel so protective of them.
I know you probably remember this, but I am writing now instead of sleeping because I am almost sick with anticipation for tomorrow. Abigail and Sophie are staying in the other room, and I hope they have better luck with sleeping. After so many years investigating, I finally feel close to some answers. Sophie’s teleport appears to operate in the same dimension as the ghosts do. The poor thing is taking all of this very hard and blaming herself for the deaths that have happened since she’s brought it here, but Abigail and I are trying to reassure her that it’s giving us crucial evidence that should help us prevent more deaths. Once this is all over, I hope she feels better.
I suppose I should try to sleep. We have so much work to do. I have so many theories, and I'm so glad to have those girls with me to help get to the heart of this. It feels like we have a real tangible chance to fix things, to stop vulnerable people being preyed on, killed and converted. For a minute tonight, facing those ghosts, I thought I was about to come face to face with someone I recognised from all the cases I've been studying, and know that they were okay, and happy. Well, the ghosts claim to be happy but there was nothing recognisable in them. We need to stop them. I hope we can stop them. The sooner I sleep the sooner I will know. Goodnight Riowyn, I will write again soon, with good news I hope.
My hands tremble as I finish reading the entry, having been paralysed and unable to look away, to deny myself this agonising reminder of my dead friend. It’s been ten years but it’s as if I can hear her voice low beside me.
With this reminder of Riowyn so real and visceral I am forced to consider something I have never allowed myself to think about. My mind unwillingly constructs the scenario in which Riowyn survived, in which we found another way to defeat the ghosts on Halapatov, where Sophie and I weren't drawn in by them and Riowyn never had to give her life to bring us back.
Where we go through police questioning together, are eventually released shaken but whole in a way none of us ever were otherwise. Where we return to Riowyn’s apartment, filling the space that had once felt so empty as we celebrated our victory and our friendship. Talked about next steps, helped Riowyn tie up loose ends, and perhaps, free of burdens and responsibilities in the Staarus system, go travelling the three of us, a shining trio across the universe applying my insight and Riowyn's research skills to Sophie's mission. Maybe we help her conclude things faster. Maybe not. Regardless the adventures we could have together would be endless.
Of course I've never wanted to think about this for the simple fact that Riowyn is gone and imagining a life for her can never change that, but also because I can't ignore the fact that my own life and everything that has happened to me since completely shifts around the reality in which Riowyn lived.
Up to that point in our lives Sophie and I had spent every moment since we met attacking everything as a team, supporting each other, a whirlwind of joy and passion, distracting each other from the difficulties of our futures - her search for her father, the impending Weraynian war, it all shrunk in comparison to the bond we shared. The moment I lost Riowyn I lost her too. It all disappeared in an instant and she withdrew, even before she physically left my side. With what she'd experienced with her family, and most impactfully with Aldred, I can't blame her for that. But I can't deny that in that reality where Riowyn lives, that place that is not real and surely could never have been, Sophie and I were poised to travel the universe together, with or without Riowyn. We would have been unstoppable.
In the midst of these thoughts I am visited by the vision of an Abigail that does not and cannot exist, growing stronger in my mind, young and carefree, holding Sophie's hand and smiling almost imperceptibly smugly at me, mocking me, my brokenness, the twisted path I've been forced to take to recapture any semblance of a future with Sophie.
Suddenly this alternate path, this alternate Abigail, is so clear to me I reel as if physically attacked.
Every particle in the air around me rushes out with the same force as when I was a child and my powers manifested, and the same as when we fought the ghosts on Halapatov, and the same as trying to defend Sophie on Werayne, but this time there is no enemy besides the turmoil of my own mind.
Flauraan, Abigail is 16, Sophie is 18
So we’ve reached the end of another few weeks together, hopefully far from our last. Abi has kindly indulged my silly quest for a real big girl career, some new task to give my life some sort of direction. Ultimately, we came to no conclusions. I can’t really say I’m too bothered by that. This was, after all, a thinly veiled excuse to visit her. Being with Abigail for any length of time makes me feel like my life hasn’t been an utter waste. From the moment I teleport into Flauraan’s atmosphere and take my first breath, I am immediately treasuring the chance simply to be breathing the same air as her. I don’t know where I’d be without her.
I wonder if she knows; what a pathetic mess I really am. I mean, of course she does, she knows everything. But sometimes I get this feeling of guilt when she looks at me, like she sees a better person than I deserve to be seen as. I have spent the many months since I found dad’s expedition being treated as a hero, and maybe I am, I don’t know. It doesn’t all feel very heroic. Since my purpose in life, my reason for utter and complete drivenness and focus, has fallen away and left the rest of me a gaping void, I can’t help but contemplate the creature I have become, through years of running away from any problem I had as if it would solve things.
The thought of self-loathing that gnaws at me the most is that it is a miracle I am here with Abigail at all, that she has allowed me back into her presence after all I have put her through. She escorts me to the hill to say goodbye, with my half-hearted plan to look into spaceport work, and all I can think of is the time we were on this hill and I hurt her. Where she grabbed onto me and begged and pleaded; “You don’t have to do this. Please, stay.” and I wrenched myself away from her. And I left her. And she didn’t even know if I would be okay. If I would survive. And even though I’d promised her I’d come back to her, for a long time I stayed away, out of guilt and fear and shame. Believing I didn’t deserve her friendship or loyalty. But once I realised what an idiot I’d been, I went back to Abigail and she forgave me and she understood that I was wrecked and blasted and damned and maybe I could pull myself back together now and be a real person.
The guilt is still there though. Saying goodbye to her always feels like a betrayal. I can hardly stand it. My stance now is that she runs the show. That’s why I’m here at all, I need her to know that I’m not going anywhere or doing anything without her knowing about it. I need her to know what she means to me. I probably haven’t done a great job of that.
All I know is, if she asked me to stay, if she’d let me live here on Flauraan with her, I’d drop everything else in a heartbeat. I could spend every day by her side, taking care of her, planning things for her. I kind of can’t imagine anything better than that.
And yet we still go through the routine, the setting of the teleport watch, the going over of last minute details, the drawing out the goodbye, and then she hugs me and I can feel her heart beating and I almost lose all resolve and beg her myself, Please, Abigail, ask me to stay. I let you down last time but this time I will be there for you. But of course I know she’d never trust me for that, never want that from me, not anymore, even if she’s long forgiven me. I pull back from the hug, loosen my grip on her hands and teleport away with a final goodbye, but not without leaving a part of myself behind in the process.
Like always.