Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

It was so quiet in the dead of night. 

Like the hissing and clanking of the station was dormant, laid to rest with her crew, an invitation for the nocturnal to prowl 

Ava didn’t spare the dark hallway a second glance, her eyes sliding closed without a light.

It was so much easier to navigate without the light anyway. 

She knew how to be silent as well, to keep to her halls like a phantom in its own house. Going to the place where all her ghosts were made, one, final time. 

She could see the sleeping bodies of the crew and the strangers as she limped through the corridor, asleep as their rest cycle continued. She noted Ross tossing in her sleep, alone in her conjoined cot.

Alba wasn’t with her. Neither were David or Mike in their beds. Ava paused to consider that, then huffed and moved on. 

There was anger, thick and heavy and hot in her mind, burning the other thoughts away. Fear for Simon had strangled into a deep-set fury that drummed through her, keeping her pace steady and straight when exhaustion threatened to drag her under. 

Ava snapped her teeth together, pushing down the angry creature spiking through her chest. It wasn’t useful to be feeling this way now. 

The bridge was no different at night, when the lights were out. The corpses of the Sm-13 and 14 were nearly invisible to her, no movement to be detected from this far away. Ava spared a single glance at them, hidden in the stillness of their deathbed. 

She didn't have time to mourn dead things. 

It was a struggle to get up and around the sub-hatch, but Ava managed. Sliding into her familiar chair, she ignored the computer, turning instead to the bulky radio-box beside it. The microphone jutted out, old worn metal, sliding into her hands easily. 

With a click, the radio sprung to life, jarring the computer into half-life as well. Static filled the air, volatile and familiar, like stirred dust under a spotlight. 

Ava clicked through familiar channels on the screen without even looking, her attention fixed on the noises coming through the radio. 

The radio had a dual purpose, as all things the COI used. It was, primarily, for contact with the subs and any nearby stations; it was, secondly, connected to another radio attached to the primary monitor, directly above the sub-hatch, to catch movement anomalies that video couldn’t get. 

So Ava could drop it as close to the ocean as the cable would reach, and speak through it. Simple.

The radio buzzed, fluctuating as it moved. Through the live feed, Ava watched the camera wobble as it lowered, unsteady in the strange atmosphere above the ocean. 

Ava scowled to herself. It’s not an atmosphere, Ava, David’s words barged into her thoughts. Just because we don’t know how it maintains itself doesn’t mean there’s anything except space above it -

Fine. It wobbled in the strange non-atmosphere above the ocean. 

“Hello?” Ava whispered into the microphone. The feed picked up an echo of her lonely word, reverberating it back through the white static. 

Ava cleared her throat, clicking to lower the camera even further, now only feet from the surface of the ocean. It was getting pretty shaky now, the thick wire being swung like a pendulum with the friction caused by surface movement. 

“Hello?” Ava said just a little louder into the mic. “I’m looking for someone.”

The surface of the ocean rippled, the same grainy blur that it always was. Ava watched it out of the corner of her eye, how the pixels shifted from greys to whites and blacks, always moving. 

“... Maybe you don’t want to see me,” Ava mumbled. The ghost of her own words rang back at her, almost drowned in the pool of interference.

The ocean rumbled back at her, half-hissing half-crackle. Ava sighed, dropping her head into her hands. That’s what acting on anger got her! A half-thought hare-brained idea that went nowhere-

Something crackled to life over the radio, something louder than the static tide. 

Ava slammed her head up, her eyes darting to the screen. There- a ripple, large and moving against the tide. Something that could be anything, maybe the ocean floor shifting, maybe gas bubbles…

Her eyes fixed on the grainy screen, Ava held her breath, catching every minuscule movement. The radio chattered as usual, sometimes breaking into thin streams of quiet humming. 

Then a bubble popped through the surface, and then another. The radio hissed with the disruption, broken with the shaking camera and pressure change. It was hard to make out what was going on, with the surface in such turbulent disarray. 

“Hello?” Ava asked into the microphone, her eyes still glued on the ocean. 

Something rose out of the ocean. 

Ava squinted at it, trying to make out a shape in the half-second it was there. Something tall and pointed, slipping in and out of the waves it made in its wake… like a… a…

Hmm. Ava wasn’t sure, but it wasn’t something usual, that was for certain. 

“… I think you’re there,” Ava murmured into the mic. “Maybe I am crazy. But if you’re here can you… say something?” 

The radio crackled on, tuning in and out of a low droning noise. 

And then something of a slightly higher frequency picked up. 

Ava hummed, trying to match the strange pitch. It wobbled up and down, like a hissing radiator, sharpening and refining the rough grain of the radio. 

Ava listened with rapture, angling herself between the speaker and the screen. 

“Chhh-chhhh- mmmmmm”

Humming, a deeply inhuman and yet living sound, piercing through the chatter of the radio. 

And it was looking for her. 

“I hear you,” Ava said into the mic, pausing her efforts to match the noise. “Not well- it’s fuzzy.”

Avaaa, it ‘said’, lower and softer than its searching-song. Come

There was no allure; no siren edge to it. Only the feeling that Ava had something to do, something important and drawing, and somebody who had something for her.

And Ava was never very good at staying away from work. 

Pushing away from the radio, Ava sighed, running her hands through her hair. She’d leave the channel open, but… it wasn’t good enough. She’d need to be closer.

Opening the hatch down to the ocean was a hard thing. Ava was going to have to only open it partially, to make a hole just big enough for her to peer down through. She’d grab an oxygen masks - there were two always next to the chains, for when they dropped a sub - and slot it over her face.

It pressed sharply against her nose, the worn elastic still tight like a noose on the nape of her neck, circling around the crown of her head. It was suffocating without the click to start delivering oxygen.

Ava had never prayed in her life, not once, but she found herself chanting one thing over and over, like some anthem. 

Please work, please work, please, god this needs to work, please…

She kept thinking it as she cranked the chains taunt to keep the subs in place, as she criss-crossed the hangar, pulling down heavy latches and leaning against the wall to catch her breath. 

Exhaustion was a dragging load, pulling at her shoulders with clawing hands. Her hips hurt from her uneven gait, her left leg cramping from taking most of the weight, even with a crutch, which was causing her right hand to spasm. 

It’s worth it, Ava told herself as she panted against the cool metal walls, sapping the pouring heat from her skin. Come on…

After a long, grueling time, Ava had finished the work meant for a crew. 

She stood below the overhang where she normally sat, standing to the side of the hatch. It was built to open in a circular manner, meaning she could, if strong enough, control how big the opening was. 

Ava suspected she didn’t need a lot of space, which meant shutting down the mechanism quick, both to limit the noise and keep as much oxygen from siphoning out.

The noise the crank made was atrocious, as always. The grinding of rusted old metal past its prime like a groaning, dying animal echoed in the hollow room, ringing in her ears. Such a familiar song, one she heard so many times that, even as her funeral hymn, she could not seem to mind it. 

The soft rush of air escaping wasn’t new either, nor the slight tinge of cold that ran up her arms and down her spine. The boiling ocean below them kept the temperature manageable, but the empty chill of space was always trying to claw its way in. But Ava seemed immune to the cold of these stations anyway.

With a heavy grunt, Ava pulled the lever down again, sweat beading across her brow as the old metal protested. Doing this much work with so few reserves made her hotter than usual, like her heart was pounding fire instead of blood through her arteries. 

Ava breathed gently into her mask, kicking the tubing that ran from it to the tank on the wall out of the way. It was providing her enough extra air to feel secure in the vacuum created, which was slowly sucking the atmosphere out of the hangar. 

The ocean roared below them, finally given an audience. Red, red, red.

Ava stared at it from the wall, her heart pounding in her chest.

This is it, Ava, She scolded herself. What are you waiting for, coward? 

Still, she stayed by the cold wall, hand wrapped around the iron crank. She felt like her breath was freezing in her lungs, like her skin was constricting around her. 

Ava, she reprimanded harshly. Move!

Ava, called the low, mournful sound of the dragon in full. 

She froze, the long, slow song melting the panic in her chest. It was alright, she- she could be brave, right now. She had someone to meet again, after all. 

Ava wobbled as she pushed herself away from the wall, her crutch briefly catching on one of the floor’s metal folds. The Sm-13 and 14 surrounded the open hatch, swirling with little lines of motion as though they too were reminiscing of their home below. 

“When did I tell you my name?” Ava murmured to herself, sliding to her knees at the edge of the metal. Was it even saying my name?

Looking down into the swirling, bubbling ocean of blood not but a decameter or two below the belly of her ship, Ava nearly regretted every decision that led her here. 

Almost. 

“Well, I’m here,” Ava called out into the red void. Her voice didn’t echo in the room anymore, too muffled by the sound of the sea, the rushing air, and her mask. 

Nothing. 

Ava scowled, eyeing the bubbling surface best she could from her angle. Didn’t help that everything was blurry from that far away, anyway. 

… something. 

Ava squinted, trying to make sense of what was rising out of the sea right beneath her. 

Something dark and pebbly looking, a long black line of…

Oh. An eyelid. 

It looks dust like it did in the monitor logs, except much less grainy. 

Again, it sang, as rivers of blood flowed down the cracks of its scaly skin. 

“It’s been awhile,” Ava admitted. She understood what it meant; they were seeing one another, face-to-face, for the first time since meeting. 

The dragon hummed again, soft like a lullaby. 

“Are you well?” Ava asked. That might have been a stupid question, sheesh-

dying, it replied simply.

“Dying- What?” Ava jolted, tugging the oxygen line against her harshly. There was no lie in its tone - it was dying, which- how -why-

mmmm, it hummed blankly. do you remember?

“Remember what?” Ava replied, still shaken from the dying comment. It wasn’t like she knew this creature so personally that she could be mournful about it, but something about that though filled her with shaking distress. It had saved her. And now it was dying?

us

…Us? Ava wondered. 

“Do you mean the first time we… uh, spoke?” Ava speculated. “...No, I don’t. Not much. I remember seeing your eye in the sub and then… waking up.”

you asked for much

“I asked?… for what?” 

A long, pregnant pause followed Ava’s question. The great sealed eye below twitched, drying blood flaking off. 

…everything…

… Everything. That could mean a lot… of things… uh… 

“…Can we start at the beginning?” Ava reflected. “Like… why you saved us in the first place.”

The dragon was silent, stretching the moment out, and began to hum. 

… I saw you shine in the darkness

…

“What’s that noise?”

David twitched. All the sounds were starting to merge together, the clicks of their heels on the floor, the buzzing of lights clicking on and off.

“What?” He said, distracted. 

Alba cleared her throat, shuffling the cat around in her arms. It was being strangely compliant, so loud and buzzy he could almost hear its lungs rattling around.

“I said, what’s that noise?” She said just above a whisper. It was still quiet in the ship, the artificial night implemented for the crew.

“I don’t hear anything,” Mike muttered, scratching at his ear. “Not that I hear much these days.”

Tuning Mike out, David strained his ears, trying to get past the fuzzy grey fog of his exhausted mind. 

Between the hissing of vents and the sluggish flow of fluids through the wall-pipes, David picked up a little… something. Like, humming from far away. 

Or maybe it was just something wrong with the pipes. 

“I’ll get Jack to look at it tomorrow,” David mumbled, not really thinking. “Prolly the pipes.”

Alba shot him a strange look, her pitch dark eyes intense in the dimness of the corridor

“David… Jack’s not well,” She whispered lowly, only to him. “Are you alright?”

God, how could he forget? Jack was fucking dying, not but a corridor away from them right now. 

“Fuck- yeah, sorry, just… distracted,” David grumbled, pinching at his nose. Shit, what the fuck was wrong with him? 

“… You should take a break,” Alba said quietly, her gaze flitting back to Mike ahead of them. “Just a little one. You need it.”

David sighed, but didn’t contest her point, unlike a certain somebody he didn’t like to work till he dropped. 

It had only been days since Ava had sat at her desk, eyes glued to the little radio, waiting for a dead convict to respond. She’d waited… days. 

Some kind of fucked up guilt, maybe. David could never quite tell with her. 

“After this,” David responded just a smidge too late. “Once- once Foundation has got a hold of it all.”

David ignored the look Alba shot him, focusing instead on the dull click of Mike’s heels, headed towards the silent bridge. 

…

Ava slumped against the metal floor, her back spine bent painfully. She let out a faint groan, her head cradled in her shaking hands.

“So you're telling me,” She rasped through her fingers “That you saved us because I was bright? And I asked you to bring back everything the rapture took?”

mmm, the dragon replied. Yes

Ava groaned into her hands again. This was a mind boggling conversation through and through - and it was apparently not even the first one they’d had! 

“That’s it?” Ava whined. “Why can’t I remember?” 

you will, someday

Ava wanted to complain. She wanted to say not good enough! Like she did with her father many many years ago. 

Ava took a deep breath, and sighed it back out. 

“How did you know it was me calling?” She asked instead. “Anything could have heard the radio, and ignored it.”

I would know you anywhere

Ava rubbed her eyes. Damn it! 

“Before- before anything else,” Ava spoke with twitching fingers. “I- want to know something. Did you… change, my eye?”

The humming dropped like a pin.

“I see things I shouldn’t- I see their heartbeats, the tear of their muscles, god I can see the little things people do in the dark with my eyes closed-”

Like a faint buzz of fluorescents, quiet quiet quiet.

“And why am I seeing stars?” Ava sniffed. “Am I crazy? I don’t-I…”

With a sound like a heavy sigh, the dragon hummed once more.

real, it said. you see more than anyone. you see more than we.

Ava chewed on that for a moment. It was true, she knew her eyes saw things that they should not; the pulse of her crewmates, motion in the dark, stars in the dead skies. 

“So they are there?” She said, “Just… too far to see?”

The dragon hummed in agreement.

“How?” She asked, desperation clawing in her throat. “Wh-why?” 

The dragons hummed for a longer moment, a blank sound that meant nothing. 

A gift, it said. For both of you

Ava mulled on that for another moment. A gift. Something free? Something more than the universe returning. 

you wanted hope. now you can see it

Ava hiccuped, pressing her hand against the plastic of the mask. 

“Ok,” She breathed, soft and purling. “Um- are we, alone, now? That creature attacking us down there latched onto Simon somehow and, and took him over- but I think he’s alright now -”

there are many of us here, it continued seamlessly. many angry, mournful, forgetting. she who would’ve killed you rests away from the light now, forgetting

The light? Hadn’t Ellen mumbled something about that, some insane, half-Simon ramble…

“What light?” Ava inquired. “Where are they?”

something not for you to understand, it said, shifting around in the roiling sea. and their bodies laid to rest within mine

Ava shuddered, gagging with the sudden wave of nausea conjured by the image. It ate them? ugh. Although, that was probably better than wherever else would have happened down there… maybe something else would have taken up residence.

“...Alright,” She mumbled. “Um- Simon, or um, Ellen I guess, said something strange. She said - I bet my life, made a deal with a god. Are- are you a god? What did she mean?”

gods… gods… no such thing… there is power and there is ignorance and memory that gives it

“…what do you mean?” Ava prodded. Such a strange passion was imbued in that last line of song, a little upwards tick in tone. 

It is so much easier to forget… to destroy an system of inequity instead of resolving the problem

…yes, it was, wasn’t it?

and yet, blood remembers it all the same

… Ava wondered what, exactly, the creatures in the sea were trying to forget.

“I remember- everything,” Ava swallowed the lump in her throat, trying not to think about Filament, about death. “But there’s still work to do. I can’t- just sit around remembering! Who can?” 

nobody. but action takes sacrifice. death

“… I was supposed to die,” Ava realized. “Oh- and Simon, oh god. You- you’re sacrificing yourself for us? How?”

for everything, it corrected softly. memory mean nothing besides annihilation 

“Oo-oh,” Ava gasped. Her mask was so tight, her fingers clawed against the old plastic uselessly- she’d slowly suffocate if she took it off. She’d be a fucking idiot. 

everything will return in due time… all but the people you have lost 

Ava’s heart clenched so fiercely she could feel the pulse jump through her fucking veins.

“Right,” she said shakily. She hadn’t even given thought to hoping, no, but now that she knew…

it would take much more than me to bring them from the light  

Maybe that was a good place to be, after all. Sounded a bit like heaven, maybe, or someplace soft in between. Ava wasn’t sure, wasn’t sure if the light was someplace she’d like to be right now.

Still, Ava couldn’t help the pricking of tears at the corners of her eyes. She’d know so many that were raptured - even if her mother had left them all those years ago, Ava had never stopped hoping, had never… 

“But why are you doing this?” Ava sniffled. “Why not let us die?”

…it would be right, it would be equal, it hummed. but I saw something in you. a reason to move

“What?” Ava prodded. 

… come 

Ava scooted even closer to the hatch rim, her fingers clutching the thick metal as she leaned over the side. Her hair whipped around her face, stinging her eyes, but Ava fixed her gaze on the shape far below.

On the dark line of a sealed eye. 

With a crack like lighting through a red sky, the eyelid split open, and a pale, grey-blue eye stared back. 

Blue, blue blue 

When Ava looked into its eyes, she understood. 

She saw herself, dressed in Captain clothing - the real stuff, soft grey and fitted, new - a smile on her face. Her hair was long and unbraided, and when she turned her head to speak to someone, Ava saw no scar. No hook-mark split across her face, no burns no teeth, nothing to pull at the easy, gentle curve of her eyes. 

Someone’s arm was looped around her neck, and Ava tensed, watching. The her-in-the-eye only laughed, pulling the mysterious figure in by the shirt for a kiss. 

Dark hair, a soft face and uncreased eyes- It was Simon, like she’d never seen him. Hair tied back with a few strands softly falling around his cheeks, something round - glasses, she realized - sitting on his bumpy nose. He laughed as the Not-Ava pressed their lips together, dressed in a sharp jacket and blue uniform with little silver stars. He grinned into their kiss, his face crinkling in a familiar way that spoke of many smiles just like it. 

“O-oh,” Ava drew in a shaky breath, pressing her hand to her mouth.

do you understand what you were meant to have? 

“Everything,” Ava whimpered, fat tears rolling down the plastic mask. 

Everything

…

“Alright,” David announced. “I hear it now.”

The faint humming that only a minute ago he’d assumed were the ‘pipes’ was now so loud and deep he could feel it through the soles of his feet. 

Alba gave him a cutting glare, saying I told you so. He rolled his eyes in return. 

“... Huh,” Mike said. He was paused at the door of the bridge, his hand firm around the push-bars. He gave it a tight rattle, grunting when it didn’t budge. 

“Is it jammed?” David piped up. Sometimes the metal got so rusted they had to take a running shove at it- just like everything else in this piece of junk. 

Mike pushed the door again, using his shoulder as a wedge. A hiss of air leaked through, but the door didn’t open, almost as though… 

“Oh fuuck,” David realized. “The door is sealed- someone’s opening the hatch - what the fuck?”

Mike frowned, his ear pressed against the door seal. Air continued to leak through, a sharp squeal that meant the inner chamber must already be losing atmosphere. 

“Is there any reason your crew would do that?” Mike made sharp eye contact with David. David shrugged, every bit as lost as him. 

“We only ever opened it for the subs, or if there’s maintenance under the ship,” David explained. “It takes like half the crew and a lot of muscle to get everything right.”

“Can we unseal the door?” Mike barked. David could see the stress fracturing on his face, 

 rigid lines deepening between his eyebrows and mouth. 

“If we push it harder than the pressure loss on the inside,” David said, already rolling up his sleeves. He gave Alba a swift glance, nodding down towards the corridor. He wanted her and that animal further away, in the off chance the vacuum was strong enough to pull them in. 

Mike nodded tensley, and backed up. For all David complained about the man, when something needed to get done, he was there and willing to do it. Even if it was a pain in everyone’s ass. 

With a snap, the two of them took a few steps back, and rammed the door. David bit back a yelp as his shoulder collided with the hard metal, only to let it fly, when his entire body met the cold metal floor. 

Of the hangar. 

Shaking off the dull ache that was surely going to bruise, David rolled onto his feet, pushing himself up. Already his chest started heaving, trying to fill his chest with oxygen that was being whisked out. The pressure was slowly pulling at his skin, a partial vacuum that was unpleasant but not life-threatening yet. 

David held out his hand, helping a grunting Mike to his feet. They both swayed for a moment, disoriented, before their eyes wandered to the real startling sight. 

Ava was perched at the end of the just-open hatch, leaning so far over the rim she could topple through at any moment. Her eyes were glassy and bright in the glow of the ocean below, and David saw liquid dripping down her oxygen mask, catching stray blond hairs that whipped around her head. 

What is she doing?

“Ava,” he breathed, trying to save some air. He stumbled away from Mike, breaking into a sprint towards his captain. The humming was so loud he could feel it through his bones, constant and consistent, startlingly loud for the limiting sound waves such an atmosphere would allow. 

“AVA,” he yelled once he was within earshot. He skidded to her side, wheezing with the exertion. 

Her wide eyes flickered to him, briefly, fleetingly, bright and blue-red and dripping with tears that rolled down her plastic mask. And then back to the ocean. 

David stared down the hatch, open-jawed and wide eyed in shock. The eye, huge and exposed, pinned on Ava, just as terrifying as when it had first appeared. 

In his peripheral vision he saw Mike pulling at the release lever, his arms straining against the heavy metal. Just as David was about to yell the other way, Ava jerked beside him, leaning precariously close over the edge. 

She was mouthing something David couldn’t hear, the static noises of his own body in the vacuum too overpowering. The humming that David had temporarily ignored was equally loud, buzzing in his bones and brain like whalesong. 

Through a surge of panic, David hooked his arms under Ava’s pulling her into his chest with a lung-emptying oomp. The floor beneath them shifted, stuttering back and forth as Mike tried to get it to shut. 

Ava was wiggling in his grasp, kicking out of his arms. David gritted his teeth and hung on tiger, determined not to let his stupid captain fall into the fucking ocean of lava he’s just fucking pulled her from!

“Ava please,” he wheezed as her elbow jammed into his ribs. She was getting slipperier to hold onto - how the fuck was she doing that - and with another jab, she struggled out of his arms. 

In her own mind, Ava was screaming at herself, the dragon, and her well-meaning but unfortunately timed subordinate. 

Just before the hatch closed, Ava scrambled out of David’s grasp, her fingers scratching at the hot metal. 

“Please don’t leave us,” Ava whispered, her breath catching in her throat. “I don’t want to be alone again”

The dragon’s eye flickered to her, half-slotted and round, sinking into the boiling blood.

goodbye, little Light

And thus closed the hatch. 

… 

Simon woke up to the sound of the door banging open. 

“Pack up your shit, convie,” an unfamiliar, rough voice snarled through the sudden light of the doorway. 

“Uh?” Simon mumbled, rubbing his sore eyes. He felt like he’d been hit by a whole station, his pulse like a drum behind his eyeballs.

“Fuck off Mike!” Another, much more familiar voice answered. “Sorry Simon, we’ve got to go. Grab Ava’s stuff would’ja?”

Simon nodded blearily, pushing himself up slowly. His hair curled around his face strangely, all pinned to a point behind his head and escaping in little flattened wisps.

In the blindness of the hallway light, Simon dragged Ava’s pack over his shoulder, fumbling to click the latch closed.  

“He don’t got anything?” Said the first man from behind the door. Simon kept his eyes down as he approached, more than a little startled by the yelling first thing. 

“No. You alright man?” This one was directed at Simon. 

Simon nodded, not quite trusting his numb tongue. It was David, standing tall in the doorway besides some other shorter silhouette. 

Simon tucked his head down towards his chest, trying not to make eye contact. He didn’t want trouble, he didn’t want to make the strange man any more upset, not even when he exited the safe room, the expanse of the hallway waiting to swallow him whole. 

He kept his head down as they trudged through the dark corridor, making their way somewhere Simon hadn’t been before. He mapped it out with the rest of the tugboat, placing it somewhere close to the bridge entry-

“Hey,” David spoke softly, almost too softly. Simon peeked out of his - David’s - jacket, glancing through the shape of the two men in front of him. “How are you?”

Someone was slumped against the wall, leaning with another figure pressed to her shoulder. 

Pale hair pulled back from a splotchy red-face and strange eyes. It was Ava, looking utterly miserable and wretched, like Simon had never seen before. One of her workers - tall, dark - had her hand to her shoulder, murmuring something into her ear.

Then she glanced at him with pink-rimmed eyes, her face stoic yet wobbling just a little bit, and Simon’s heart gave a sharp clench. 

Ava, he thought, confusion and anger like a sharp knife through his mind. Who did this?

Simon remembered her whispering about the staring in the halls, the comments about her leg, her decisions. Would one of those new, transplant crew members…? Whoever did it was not going to like what was coming their way, not one fucking bit-

“Fine,” Ava slipped, her eyes falling back down to the floor. SImon was briefly hit with a wave of fury. She was so clearly not fine- but, if she said so- No, Ava would work through the end of the world, she was not fine-

“Mm,” David hummed, clearly not buying it either. “Ok, well, you’re lucky Foundation wants us right now. Cuz after… you're grounded. Forever.”

Ava picked her gaze off the ground to glare at David. However bad she must be feeling right now, none of that showed in the bright sharpness of her eyes that tore into him like a meal block. 

David shuffled back, clearly a little perturbed, and turned away to mess with some panel on the wall. 

Simon stood there, watching how her face fell after David turned away. It was like a light had extinguished somewhere inside, replaced with some weary abandon. And he didn’t know what to do about it. 

Behind them, some door slid open. David nodded to himself, please, and made a little go ahead motion. Ava sighed, and, with her crutch in hand, limped into the doorway. 

The new man followed her closely, his eye narrowing on Simon briefly before disappearing into the dimness as well. 

“When you gonna be back?” The somewhat familiar woman who had been talking to Ava raised her eyebrows in David’s direction, her voice low and unimpressed by the going-ons. 

“Can’t say,” David shrugged. “I’d say you’re in charge, but god knows what Mike told his guys. Keep an eye out and keep to yourself, you know the drill.”

By the huff she made, the woman certainly understood.

“Enjoy those pricks, I guess,” She laughed, and shoved something into David’s arms. He recoiled from the push, startling like he’d been touched by electricity. It just looked like a bundle of fabric to Simon.

“Mmhm,” David huffed. Turning to Simon, he jerked his head towards the open doorway. “I’ll explain in a sec. C’mon.”

Simon did not like to trust people. Simon did not like to be led to strange, unknown places that look far too much like prison cells. But Simon also didn’t like that look on Ava’s face or the still-drying tear tracks down her cheeks. 

With a sigh, Simon shuffled through the doorway, and entered the dark room. 

With a glance at the clear glass-paneled sides and tight seating arrangement, Simon knew what this was. A transport shuttle. His last memories of one of these made his lips curl back, a fresh phantom ache of his burnt tattoo and bruised wrists pulsing. 

The man from earlier was nowhere to be seen - probably in the cockpit - but Ava was sitting against a widow, half of her face so tightly pressed to the glass her breath was fogging it.

Simon hesitated, but with another look at her swollen eyes, sat himself just next to her, close enough to shoot over and touch if he wanted. 

Ava looked pretty bad, her eyes half-slits and wide in the dark. Simon traces the swirl of her scars, the paintbrush-pattern that emerged from the collar of her shirt and winded upwards. 

It was almost pretty, in a way accidentally beautiful things were. Simon wished Ava would believe him if he told her.

With a sigh, Ava closed her eyes, her eyebrows pressing together in a tense frown. Simon wanted to smooth those lines away, to press her scar-riddled face into his equally scarred hand. 

“Let’s get going!” David shouted, swinging into the room. With a ridiculously long amount of taps into some panel, the doors creaked closed, and released the hiss of air sealing. 

Simon stared at the lanky man, unsure of what was going on. One consolation he had was Ava being generally pretty quiet about everything, because if whatever this was something she didn’t approve of, she’d make it known. 

The memory of her chilling glare sent a shiver down his spine. 

“Sorry about all this man,” David sighed, throwing himself down onto the seat across from them. The space was cramped enough that if Simon kicked his legs out he’d nail David square in the shin. 

“Mhm,” Simon hummed when the silence stretched. The quiet noises of machinery prepping took over the cabin, sharp static hissing of air and the squealing of wet pipes. Simon preferred the noise over any silence, over the strange humming he’d been imagining of late. 

David kept his gaze on him, and raised one eyebrow unsubtly. 

“Is that my jacket?” He whispered towards Ava, judgement heavy in his pale eyes. 

Ava snorted. 

“You have eyes,” She said, in a decidedly not whisper. “He gets colder than me.”

David looked back and forth between the two of them. HIs eyes lingered on Ava’s bare arms, the pallid white skin so exposed to the chilly air. And then to Simon, who wore several more layers and yet still shivered constantly. 

“So, um, something happened,” David said a little awkwardly. “We uh- I talked to the Council about it, and they decided they wanted to hear your story. Like, now. Um. I can’t stall them anymore, I’m afraid.”

David’s hands were trembling as he drug his fingers through his hair. Simon noted the pale tightness of his face, the way the single overhead light washed him out in unnatural ways. 

He supposed they were all doing pretty poorly, huh. 

“…a trial?” Simon asked hesitantly. He’d been wondering if the other shoe would drop, the last few days had been too quiet for-

“No?” David interrupted his thoughts with a befuddled expression. “It’s not going to be pleasant talk, sure, but you’re not going back to the cell.”

Simon frowned. 

“Why not?” He challenged, more irritated by the switch-up than anything. 

“… you finished the deal,” David muttered, tapping his fingertips together. “You’re a citizen now, I mean there needs to be paperwork and reassignment and stuff but…”

Simon stared at him, startled into silence. 

“… really?” He breathed. 

Just then, the shuttle’s engine rattled to life, shaking the cabin and the people within. 

“Yeah, yeah, man, you’re COI now,” David said, holding onto the side of his seat. “And if anybody gives you trouble about it you come to me, k’?”

Simon swallowed harshly, his palm pressing against his lips. He tried - and failed - to repress a pitiful little noise.

“Thank you,” Simon whispered, looking at David with welling emotion. David smiled awkwardly, his eyes darting away swiftly. 

“Yeah, no trial again, great right?” David joked. “Say, was Joan or Dean in charge of yours?”

Simon stared at him blankly. 

“Um,” he said. “I didn’t get one?”

“You didn’t get a trial?” Ava injected suddenly. Simon glanced over at her, startled. Her head was raised, her eyes fixed blearily on his. 

“No,” Simon responded gruffly, looking down at his lap. “Why would they? I’m Eden’s butcher. I wasn’t going to get off free.” 

“But- not even a mock one?” David prompted, his face drawn tight. “Like course’ you would be convicted, but…”

“Why would they waste time on someone like me,” Simon huffed. “I killed people.”

“Sure, but so have we,” Ava said, and then immediately winced. 

Simon didn't appreciate the comment, fixing her with a dark look. 

“Not the same,” he growled. “And… maybe I understand, now, why everyone was so angry about it.”

Silence. 

“…I told you I didn’t blame you for Filament,” Ava said, too calmly for her scratchy voice. “And I meant it, Simon.”

Simon looked away, guilt like a fork behind his eyes. 

“… I never got the full story, honestly,” David wondered out loud. “The report said you were the only one to surrender. That you willingly burned the mark off.”

Simon pulled his lips back in a disgusted sneer, flinching back into his seat. 

“I didn’t get a choice,” he spat. “It was that or die.”

“Well, that is a choice,” David chuckled humorlessly. “But- yeah, ok, I know. Thing is, you’ve got choices now. A lot more than you think.”

Simon stared at him, into his nervous flickering grey eyes. 

“I’ve got a suspicion,” David continued. “That there’s something else going on. I mean, think about it. The sun’s back not an hour after we pull y’all out. Things surfacing from the sea. Foundation gives out more rations. A fucking cat in our crew quarters-“

“A cat?” Ava interrupted, a quizzical look on her face.

David nodded solemnly. 

“Look,” he whispered, and poked the bundle-thing in his lap. 

It twitched, fabric bunching up and relaxing at the poke-site. Something shifts, a long, waving stick-thing appears and disappears into the twitching mass. 

Simon had never seen anything like it. 

Clearly Ava was equally perplexed, by the scrunch of her eyebrows..

“What the fuck?” They say simultaneously. 

David shrugged, and they all watched the creature wiggle in his lap, getting comfortable. 

Simon shivered. The further away they got from the tugboat- from the oceans - the colder he seemed to be getting, like a trail of ice through his spine.

“I didn’t know, about Filament,” Simon mumbled. He felt their eyes on him now, curious and sharp. 

“I thought we were there for supplies. I was betrayed,” Simon choked the words softly, while his hand clenched around nothing. He wished he had his mothers knife- god he wanted that familiar handle more than anything now, something shapley and worn soft and warm. 

David said nothing. Ava said nothing. The black sky hummed, rolling and pitching like singing bells in his ears, ringing like a distant hymn. 

“I didn’t- I didn’t get a choice,” Simon whispered. 

David had the decency to look a little appalled, although not entirely. 

“I’m interested in asking the Council about Eden,” David led the topic away from unstable ground into even shakier territory. “Not that they’ll tell me anything. I know there was a peace accord drafted before Fil- all that, maybe they’ll reinstate it.”

“Doubtful,” Ava huffed. “It’s all or nothing now. Council won’t accept anything other than total submission.” 

Simon felt their gazes flit to him again. 

“Um… I don’t know?” He shrugged. “Father might be dead by now - good riddance - and every proably a lot of brothers too. Why do you think we were so ballsy to go after Filament- we needed those supplies.”

“Right. Well, would you speak to them?” David piped up again. “If you could or- or were asked.”

Simon felt his sneer returning, and tried to tamp it down. 

“Fuck them.”

Ava made a little half-snort, as though she were expecting such a reaction. David slapped his hand over his mouth, but the upturn of his eyes betrayed his laughter. 

“So… what happened?” Simon asked. “To make us go all this way.”

Silence. Again. 

“…Ava?” David prompted her after a long moment. Ava huffed and turned away, leaving her old-scar side to Simon. 

“…I was… angry…” Ava said. “After… all that,”

She waved vaguely at Simon. He understood; after arguing with a blood creature who took over my mind and body.

“I… was confused,” she admitted, twisting a piece of blond hair between her fingers. “Bad combination. I felt deserving of answers. So I… went looking.”

Went looking? 

“I told you about the dragon,” Ava hinted at. “Yeah well, I went to the bridge, dropped a mic, yelled into it for a bit. Well, someone came looking.”

Simon didn’t like the sound of that. His already frigid body shivered harder. 

Ava paused, looking at him. She noticed; of course she did.

“It was it.” She finished off. “We talked. Apparently, not for the first time.”

Av glanced at David. He was leaning back against his chair, his tired eyes lowering dangerously. 

“Do you believe me, David?”

“Mm- Yeah, I do,” David mumbled. “We’ve got the recordings. It came when you called, it answered when you talked. Sentient, clearly, and impossible to understand. But you spoke to it.”

“Sure did,” Ava huffed. 

“What’d it say?” Simon asked. He was curious about the creature he had no memory of - the things down there he did not recall fondly, for the most part.

“...It’s all being returned,” Ava spoke softly, almost… reverently. Her eyes landed on the black glass somewhere past David’s head, widening as though they saw something in that darkness. “Slowly. Piece by piece.”

“...Like the sun returning,” Simon filled in. Ava nodded. “And the stars?”

“Mhm,” She hummed. “I take it you can’t see them?”

Simon shook his head, wincing as he jarred the cacophony of sounds housed within his ears.

“Before you ask, not people,” Ava whispered with a glance at David. Simon peeked over as well, a little startled when he saw the man sprawled, dead asleep, in his chair. “They aren’t coming back.”

Before he could respond, something flashed outside the window. Simon caught a hint of steely, black-stained grey before they sped past it. A station.

“Fiber,” Ava commented with a knowing look. Simon shivered. They were getting far away now, and it was like reality was losing color and taking warmth with it. 

Ava shifted a little closer to him, leaning away from her window. 

“I- I, I think we owe each other a longer conversation, Simon,” Ava admitted. Her face was pinched as she glared off into the darkness, her lips pressed together in a white line. “About a lot of things. Not- not now. But… when this is over.”

“...”

“I know,” Ava said when Simon didn’t answer. “It’s not fair. But I owe you that much.”

Simon knew she meant further back than the last 24 hours, hell, maybe further than the AT-5 mission. Maybe she meant the baleful glares in the cell, or the cold words spoken over his single ration, the days before his ‘repentance’. 

Simon didn’t want to go back to then, not the dirty years of doing COI crap work and eating leftover rations reserved for the Butcher with the uncertain hope of forgiveness like a carrot in front of his nose. God, he’d wanted that so bad he was willing to pretend to believe they would actually give him is freedom. 

But… apparently, they had. Because Ava, despite knowing it was a fucking suicide, went down there for him.

… Maybe he owed Ava that conversation, too. 

The shuttle jarred suddenly, rattling the people inside. David’s head bounced against the back of his seat, pulling only a groggy yawn from the man. 

“W’d I’miss,” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes tiredly. Simon snorted, looking pointedly away. That kind of behavior would get you killed in prison. Scratch that, in Eden. 

“Simon, if you could have been anything before the rapture, what would you have been?” Ava glanced at him through the corner of her eye, something tense and unreadable on her face.

“...Huh?” Simon said after a confused moment. 

“What would you have been?” Ava repeated. “Career-wise.”

Simon mulled over the strange question for a moment. 

“I- I dunno,” Simon said. “Maybe, um- I liked machines, so, engineering? Space exploration was cool, too, so maybe a pilot. I don’t know.”

Ava hummed, her eyes distant. 

“I see,” She said. 

“I like biology,” David said with a shrug. “If anyone cares.”

“There’s a lot of biologies, David,” Ava snipped back, almost playfully. It seemed reminiscent of a conversation they’d had before, all soft and frayed at the edges. “Pick something less broad.”

“Literally not the point,” he shot back, splaying out his hands. “I love it all! Science!!”

“What about, um,” Simon interjected hesitantly. “Stuff that like- like interacts. Um, like systems.”

“Oh!” David appeared startled for a second. “Like- like about the environment? Ecology, maybe? The interaction between living things and their nonliving environment?”

With Simon’s hesitant nod, David’s eyes practically sparkled. 

“That’s the fun stuff!” he exclaimed “Oh, the web of life; the tiny, resounding little interactions that make up the universe… or it would, anyway.”

Something dimmed in the man, a quiet snuffing of the juvenile spark in him. 

“What?” Simon asked. 

“Well, it’s gone now,” David explained. “With the rapture, Hundreds of millions of years of study, with a poof when Earth disappeared. Course’ stations and people are worlds in of themselves, like did you know there are more bacteria living on and in us than there were stars in the sky?”

Simon had not known that. He wasn’t sure he had wanted to. 

“Thousands of humans, millions of years, and we don’t hardly know anything!” David exclaimed excitedly, a sharp grin etched into his tired face. “It’s such a strange thing, to assume we are individuals when we are all connected! Like links in a chain, a world of marvels in each person.” 

Simon glanced at him, wondering. Is this how a scientist saw the world? Was it all that different than the quiet things the blood whispered to him, the merging and wholeness and the mechanical noises of the night?

“Then why did they leave,” Simon asked softly. “If everything was connected to us”

“I don’t know,” David sighed, his head swaying suddenly, as if remembering his exhaustion. “I could never logic it out. Why leave a bunch of random stations? Why conglomerate the blood of the dead onto random moons? I’m not religious; I never will be, but dammit if I haven’t considered something divine.”

Ah.

Simon remembered what Ellen had said to him like it was a waking dream. 

“I’m saying, if I was a god, that I would not have spared people as they were, either.”

Maybe both of them were right in some way. Who was Simon, some fucked-up mortal with a spotty memory to say? He wasn’t about to go down and ask again. He was going to leave that light where it laid.

The shuttle rattled again, harder than before this time. Simon gripped onto the side of his seat with his one hand, shuddering at the cold metal contact. 

David glanced up, spotting something on one of the beeping panels. 

“We’re here,” He said with a sigh. Ava shook her head, her blond hair straying into her face. She rose shakily from her seat, one hand steady against the wall, the other waving around - for balance or maybe her crutch. Simon drug it out from under her chair and handed it over wordlessly. 

“Thanks,” She huffed, her brows furrowing as she struggled to slot it under her arm one-handedly. 

“Get your asses out of my shuttle,” Came the strange man’s voice through the cockpit. 

“Fuck off Mike!” Ava yelled back immediately. David snorted loudly, hiding a smile behind his fist. 

Behind Simon, the door slammed open. 

“Shit!” He yelped, jolting around. Nothing was there; a silent, grey corridor.

“Chill man,” David quipped, shoulder-checking him lightly as he stepped over the threshold. Simon glared at him, shrinking away from the light of the new - not really - place.

It looks different outside of handcuffs. Not that Simon ever cared enough to get a good look. 

Then Ava was brushing past him too, her eyes fixed on him as she went. 

“Cmon, Simon,” She called over her shoulder. “We’ve got work to do.”

Simon sighed, and turned to follow her. 

And upon turning, the last glimpse of hollow space Simon saw was a bright, shine of light from a sun through the window. 

And it was beautiful

…

David was seriously about to fall over dead if he didn’t get a rest soon. 

“Where ya taking em’?” He questioned, not for the first time. “I can start guessing if you want.”

The woman sat in front of him sighed, pinching at the bridge of her nose. She was better dressed and combed than he, in somewhat clean grey fabric and neat hair. 

“To private rooms,” She said with the air of someone who had been through this before. “Stop worrying.”

“Hrmp,” David grumbled, leaning back in his chair. Through the few functional monitors lining the wall, he could see the empty ‘not interrogation’ rooms as they stood stock still and grey with inactivity. For now.

“Let’s go back to this, shall we?” She said with a tense smile. “What time did you note the extraction of the SM-13’s black box data?”

“Uhh,” David squinted. “Less than a day ago, sheesh. You can check the recording times; we watched em’ as they came in.”

The woman stared at him a moment, exasperation in her deep brown eyes, and sighed while turning the page in front of her.

“Right,” she mumbled to herself, jotting something down. “Ok. Tell me about this plant.”

“It’s um- a plant”

Apparently that was not an amusing answer, by the look she shot him. 

“Sorry- I couldn’t tell you what sort, it’s just alive,” David said with a shrug. “Maybe a tree- it’s tall and sturdy. It grew from what looks like human remains, not surprising but we don’t know who’s.”

She scribbled another something onto her pad.

“Alright. Why couldn’t you bring it in for proper inspection?” She said. 

“Look, Cass, don’t make this a problem,” David waved his hand around vaguely. “The box is too fragile, it was dangerous enough moving it to my lab. Files are still being repaired by our crew - some are just.. fragments. But I think it will need a transplant soon, after we get everything out.”

Cass raised an eyebrow. 

“Where do you suggest we put it?” She asked smoothly. “There’s no surplus of soil here, you know.”

“… we can make it,” David said, not without some hesitancy. “You know we can. We have seeds, all we need is more… organic material.”

Cass hummed, noting his suggestion. 

‘Hey-hey, where am I?’ A voice, gruff and familiar, crackled to life on the radio.

David perked up, his eyes darting over the screens to find the one. There- a very blurry, pixelated Simon was being sat in one of the empty rooms, his front to the camera. 

“What do you think of his behavior?” Cass interjected. “The former convict’s” 

David blinked at her, surprised. 

“He’s uh, well behaved,” he managed. “Compliant, easy going. He’s recovering well, hasn’t hurt anybody or anything. Even before all this he was way too calm…”

“Do you think he’s fit for COI life?” Cass asked. “Things are changing and we need flexibility and skill more than ever, and physical capability.”

David nodded a little too quickly. Damn, he needed some coffee. 

“Yes- he’s been a real asset,” David said, taking care not to be too enthusiastic. “In fact, I think maybe he should be included in this… research.”

Cass raised her eyebrow again. 

“You want the former convict on the most important project since the Filament salvage?” She questioned, clearly hesitant herself. 

“Well, he found it first,” David felt the need to point out. “Maybe it’s worth letting him plant something else? It might just work.”

‘I don’t know why it sprouted,’ Simon said through the radio. ‘I just found it growing in my arm and-‘ 

“Did he just say…?” Cass’s eyes widened almost comically, a hand flying to cover her mouth.

“His arm?” David finished, feeling almost a little nauseous himself. “Oh my god.” 

‘Where’d you take them?’ A different, angry voice interjected. Ava was stomping around in a different room, her crutch clattering on the hard floor. 

Someone in the room said something to her, something clearly not satisfying with the way her pixelated face darkened. 

‘Fine. I’ll talk for ten minutes, then I want some answers,’ Ava demanded, allowing herself to fall back into her chair. The other person in the room said something in agreement. 

“We have concerns, about, Captain Ava,” Cass said, with some notable hesitancy on Captain. “Is she fit to continue on in her position?”

“What concerns?” David frowned, leaning forwards in his chair. “She’s been recovering - losing a fucking leg is hard.”

“Precisely,” Cass quipped back primly. “She’s done good work, more than exceeded our expectations for her post. If she desired… a simpler job then the Council may reassign-”

‘I’m perfectly fit,’ Ava snarked through the radio. Sliding his eyes towards her monitor, David watched her bare her teeth at the interviewer. ‘Do you doubt my capabilities? I don’t deserve that- I’ve done EVERYTHING you’ve asked and more-’

As the officer interrupted her with some reassurances of her competency, David sighed. He couldn’t help but feel like Ava was well and completely right to yell at these assholes - he’d been there every time they gave her shit about her decisions, her youth, piling more and more stress on a fracturing person. 

“You ask me if she’s fit,” David repeated, turning his glare onto Cass. “I’d tell you there’s nobody more willing to do the hard work than she is.”

Cass stared at him for a moment, something clicking in the hardness of her face. 

“That’s valued,” She said at last, and didn’t make a note.

“Yep,” David mumbled, sliding back into his chair. 

‘Yeah, I talked to them- um, Ellen, I think Laura was there-’ David froze, turning towards Simon’s monitor. 

Ellen? David’s mind echoed. Laura? He- he what?

‘It wasn’t just blood in that ocean,’ Simon’s head was hanging low, his hand gripping the fabric of his pants tightly. ‘They were there too- the ones who died. I didn’t know who they were until Ava confirmed it- the SM-8, I don’t-’

The interviewer cut him off again, saying something about the box. Simon’s raised, something unreadable on his face. 

‘You- you recovered the box?’ Oh, it was a little sliver of hope, quiet and longing. 

“Let’s get back to the interview,” Cass suggested, tearing David’s eyes away from Simon. “How about we discuss positions.”

…

Ava growled in the silence of the room, her teeth clenched together harshly. 

After the nameless officer came - grilled her about stupid shit - and left, Ava has been pacing the room, only further irritating herself with the uneven clink of her crutch versus the soft slap of her footstep. 

It was tiring. She was tiring her exhausted body out too much, draining herself like an over-wrung cloth. But she couldn’t stop moving, like something alight in her brain was keeping her hair on end, her muscles twitching. 

The door slid open. Ava paused, turning her head towards the open doorway. 

“Captain Ava,” Fuck. She knew that voice. 

“Council Member Joan,” Ava grumbled, levering her glare onto the woman. 

Joan was, in her mind, the most annoying motherfucker next to fucking Mike. She was the one always pestering her on the tugboat - transmission after transmission about the importance of her role, the limited resources and lack of results. 

Enough to make her blood boil hotter than it was already. 

“Let’s sit,” Joan motioned to the metal chair beside the small table. 

Ava eyed her balefully, then the chair. She really didn’t want to sit, at least not before she did. 

With a suppressed hiss, Ava sank into the uncomfortable metal. It jarred her sore hips and back, pulling the dull, aching pain to the forefront of her mind. She hated this, hating this stripped vulnerability and cold detachment that always came with meeting the council. Not that she was going to meet them all - they were busy. 

But here was Joan, the chairwoman.

“Apologies for another injury,” Joan sait, sitting across from Ava. Her pale eyes flitted to Ava’s leg where it hung over her chair, and back to her face. 

“Are you,” Ava replied flatly. 

“Mhm,” Joan mused, settling her hands in front of her. “The council sends its regards. We cannot all meet, unfortunately, there are… pressing concerns.”

Ava found herself unimpressed by the excuse. 

“Uh-huh,” She scowled. “Like what.”

Joan pressed her lips together flatly, the twitch around her eyes betraying her irritation. 

“I’ll be frank with you, Ava,” She shed the Captain title a little too easily for Ava’s liking. Always reminding her of her place, after all. “You and your convict aren’t the only thing returning.”

Not the only thing returning?

“Let me be frank,” Ava slid forward, her eyes fixed on Joan’s. “The convict was given a deal, and saw it through. Be assured that I intend to see his sentencing lifted. And secondly, what returned?”

Joan’s eyes flitted away briefly, her fingers clasping together in front of her. 

“That’s classified,” Joan said.

“Yeah? What am I going to do with that information, Joan,” Ava said, watching as Joan’s heart rate picked up before her very eye. “Why are you nervous?”

Joan swallowed, her pristine face cracking just a little bit.

“Approximately five days ago, Folk Station found a cargo ship floating in space.” Joan said, softer than any word before. “With enough material to boost our collective supplies by two and a half years. No pilot, no crew, everything left as though they had just stepped out for a moment”

Joan took in a sharp breath. 

“Then, someone on Fiber spots space wreckage in an area patrolled daily, with no indication of movement or any indication of how it got there.”

Ava knew where this was going. She let Joan take her time and continue anyway.

“Now, your second in command finds a cat in his room,” Joan nearly spat. “I don’t need to tell you how many animals disappeared with the raptures; the rest were consolidated. There should be no pets on any station, ever again.”

“... Done?” Ava said, flashing her teeth in a rough smirk. “This isn’t over. It’s going to keep going.”

“You said you spoke with a fragment of the Rapture,” Joan spat back. “You sound insane, but I’m willing to listen.”

“Not a fragment,” Ava rolled her eyes. “The dragon didn’t cause the rapture; it just didn’t stop it. Ask Simon about the cause, he’d know more than me.”

Joan stared at her for a moment. 

“What is coming back, Ava?” She said just above a whisper. 

Ava leaned onto the table, balancing her head on her palms. 

“Everything, Joan,” She whispered back in the same tone. 

everything will return in due time… all but the people you have lost 

That's what it said, clear and precise like a clock. It would all come back, maybe tomorrow, maybe in the next thousand years. But the people were gone, in that terrible human-soup on those mystifying moons, and they weren’t fucking returning.

“People won’t be a problem,” Ava said, smoothening her hands over the table. “They aren’t coming back. Focus the Council on those of us that remain.”

Joan peered at her, then nodded decisively. Perhaps whatever she saw in Ava’s eyes was enough for her. 

“Big claim,” Joan murmured, leaning back. “I suppose we’ll see.”

“You will,” Ava said confidently. “Look, I know you want answers; I’ll write you a full, detailed report, draw up a star map, all the bells and whistles. You can tear into my story, you can sample my scars, my eye, whatever you want. But I want two things from you.”

“...Yes?” Joan raised a brow. 

“You’ll leave Simon alone,” Ava tapped her fingers on the table. “Starting now. He’ll be assigned wherever I am assigned and given all due COI diligence, no bullshit.”

“… Really?,” Joan mused. “I thought you’d ask for his head.”

”I wouldn’t have gone down there if not for him,” Ava sneered. “And then we wouldn’t be in the fortunate situation we are in now.”

”True, I suppose,” Joan shrugged. “If you willing want that leash. The second?”

“Don’t investigate the ocean anymore,” Ava said. “Or the dragon. There’s nothing to learn there; let them rest. Maybe someday we will have enough resources to do something honorable with all the remains but, for now, turn the COI’s objectives towards rebuilding.”

Joan looked briefly stunned by the magnanimity of the request.

“Deal?” Ava pressed. She knew how these people thought; it was far too similar to her own logic. If there was a better use for resources and effort and enough incentive dangling in front of their noses, they’d take it.

“I’ll consider it,” Joan said, like the little shit she was. “You’ve kept your good sense, and insolence.” 

“You’ll process my request?” Ava shot back before she agreed to anything. “You’ll bring it to the rest of the Council?”

“I will see it done,” Joan promised, and slid her pad of only slightly crumpled paper towards her. “Even for the butcher.”

Ava stared at it, the blank off-white matte sheen of it in the bright light. 

“Write as much as you can remember, and then some,” Joan said. “Consult your not-convict if you need to; go through the records and cite them as well.”

“Right,” Ava nodded once, then again as finality sunk in. “Ok. Anything else?”

…

“Your quarters,” The nameless guard gestured towards an open doorway. A small, cramped room with three beds, two of them empty.

Ava huffed a thanks, and limped in, letting the door creak half-closed behind her. 

“Ava?” 

“Simon,” Ava echoed. He was sitting on the bed furthest - in fact, quite crammed in - the corner, curled up on himself, arm curled around his torso.

When she wobbled in, Simon relaxed, his tight grip on his own shirt loosening. 

“I was… kind of scared,” He admitted as she came closer. “I wasn’t sure where…”

“We were? Yeah,” Ava sighed. “I didn’t think about that. I’m sorry.”

A little pitiful noise escaped Simon, and he turned his head away, looking at a dark patch of metal where a window must have used to be. 

“I thought you had left me here,” he whispered. 

Ava swallowed her protest, sitting on the edge of his cot instead. He eyed her, maybe nervous or just cautious, before scooting an inch closer. 

“I wouldn’t do that,” Ava said, softly but firmly. “Never again, if I’ve got a choice.”

“...They said they were going to try and grow some stuff,” Simon whispered. “They said they’d ask for me. Maybe an assignment.”

“Then I’ll come,” Ava said. “I made a deal; I write up our story, all the gory details, for an actual fucking pardon for you. And freedom to stay together, if you want it.”

Ava stared at the wall opposing them, feeling Simon's swaying weight shift the taught cot fabric. He was silent, too silent, but Ava waited, just… sitting there. Together. She’d give him all the time he fucking wanted.

“...I want that,” Simon choked. He sniffed quietly, his breath catching in his throat.

Ava turned to him, already moving by the time she caught sight of his tear-traced face.

“Oh, hey, hey,” Ava murmured, shifting forwards to catch him in her arms. 

Simon dropped his head on her shoulder, his entire body caving into hers. Ava sighed and pressed her chin onto the crown of his head, raising a hand to card through his hair gently.

He was crying a little bit, dampening the thin fabric of her shirt. His arm fell around her waist, anchoring loosely to her poking hip bones.

The monster bits of them both were against the world, Ava’s red eye roving over the room, Simon’s webbed ear twitching with each distant noise until Ava covered it. The human bits were pressed up against each other, soft skin on skin, scars to the light. 

“Thank you for… coming back,” he whispered into her neck. “Again.”

“I thought I was going to lose you then,” Ava admitted, feeling like a part of her heart was wrenched out and stomped. “I didn’t even know you and it was killing me.”

“I know,” Simon breathed. He didn’t say he forgave her, he didn’t need to. It didn’t really matter.

“I want to know you, Simon,” Ava said, pressing her face into the dark tangle of his hair. “We don’t get choices, but, if I could choose, I’d choose to be with you.”

His grip around her tightened, fingers digging almost too hard into the protrusion of her ribs. 

“You waited,” He mumbled. “Days. When you thought I was dead.”

“Yeah,” Ava chuckled. “David said I was crazy. And I was, I just- guilt, maybe. I dunno. I just couldn’t lose anybody else.”

Simon was quiet for a moment, his heartbeat picking up a tick.

“I think we were supposed to die,” Simon whispered. “Maybe we did.”

Ava pulled him closer, so tight they may as well have become one. 

“No,” she said, closing her eyes. “We’re here. Alive. I’m not going to take that for granted.”

Simon sighed, nestling in closer. 

“Ok,” he said, like swallowing a shard of glass.

“Simon,” Ava said, a question forming on her tongue. “What do I look like, now?”

She felt, rather than hear the little inquisitive noise he made. 

“Why?” He asked. 

“I’m getting stared at,” Ava said quietly. “Nothing new but - well, I haven’t seen myself, and my vision’s pretty bad anyway, so…”

“…you’ve got these new scars I guess,” Simon mumbled into her neck. “All swirly and sometimes they get pebble-y. Sort of pink. Your eye is… darker, David said it looked like mine, little pupil and orange-y.”

“Mhm,” Ava hummed. 

“Some teeth here, like a bite mark,” Simon continued. “Chomp. Like mine. Um… well…”

“Nothing else?” Ava chuckled. He certainly had a way with words. 

“Mmm, if I said you were as beautiful as ghostlight, you wouldn’t believe me,” Simon huffed, joking only just a little. 

“No,” Ava smiled into his hair. “I don’t think I would.” 

…

Only a little while later, after sharing a meal block and a nap, Ava left Simon to sleep and wandered into the empty communal bathroom. 

Everyone was working, and nobody in the halls wanted to mess with her, so it was easy enough to slip by. Ava wanted to be there, because there was one thing that the Foundation rooms had that her little tugboat did not; a cracked, dirty, and somehow intact mirror. 

Ava stood in front of the sink, gazing into her own eyes. 

“Huh,” She whispered to herself. Simon had been pretty accurate after all. 

Standing in only her undergarments, Ava traced the whorls of her scars, pink and brown, from her lower arm up to her face. Like a tide pattern it swirled - ebbing and flowing in places, raised like the spread of mycelium, hardening in places and softening in others.

Ava ghosted her fingers over her cheek, feeling the bumps and marks, and down her neck, just grazing the protruding teeth. 

God, she looked monstrous, a chew toy of a person. Fuck, why didn’t that bother her anymore?

“Ha,” Ava said, wiping away the tear that slid down her face before she could stop it. “Ha- oh god,”

When she swallowed, the teeth in her neck rippled, the strange corded muscle flexing. It was so strange, so bizarre, so hers. Was it bad she couldn’t remember the skin there before, if it’d been normal or scarred, if there had been a birthmark or mole or anything at all?

Ava pinched the old scar, the left hook-side, watching the white, raised skin pinken. After the accident years ago, she got used to the looks, the stares when she left the tugboat, the whispers of pity and worse. Maybe her cutting glares and sharp words started then, not with the rapture. 

Ava wondered how her life would be if she had all that the dragon had promised her. Would she be rude, harsh, a liar and a soldier and a griever? Would she ever get scars like these, a trial like this, would she get Simon the way he was now, broken and caustic and angry and hers?

Another tear slid down, sliding over the grooves of her scars and skin. And, this time, she let it stay.

“There’s more work to do,” Ava whispered to herself in the mirror, her hands settling over her heart. Not a threat; not an inevitability. A promise.