Chapter Text
If Sam Yao prides himself on anything, it’s on noticing details. He can tell when his runners are too exhausted to go out. He can tell when his friends are putting on a brave face or when they’ve had a sleepless night.
He’s been cataloguing unusual behaviors from Five for several weeks now. She avoids the mess hall whenever possible. She rushes through her post-run bite checks. She’s been "too tired” for Sam in the evenings.
He’s sitting in the mess hall with Maxine and Paula - but without Five - on a cool night, plates of green peas, kidney beans, and tiny blueberries arrayed in front of them. Paula reaches out every so often to caress Maxine’s belly. The baby. Their baby.
“So, good news!” says Sam. “I may have found some Chinese music!”
“That’s wonderful, Sam!” says Paula.
“Yeah. Been searching for ages on Rofflenet. Turns out the Chinese Cultural Centre has a whole library of CDs,” he says.
“Man, I could go for some lo mein right about now,” says Maxine, picking at her plate without enthusiasm. “And soy sauce. I could drink a whole bottle."
“We could look for lo mein, too,” says Sam, privately doubtful any noodles would have survived. “I could cook you a whole Chinese meal! Well, you know, if I knew how to do that. I can look for a cookbook...”
“It'll be nice for the baby to grow up learning about your heritage,” says Paula.
His mind wanders away, lost in imagining the food and music he’ll share with his future child.
“What’s Five up to?” asks Paula.
“Says the mess hall is too traumatizing right now." He shrugs. "Maybe she’s still hung up about the whole Moonchild thing.”
A long, quiet moment passes. Sam spears another mouthful of beans onto his fork.
“I think you should tell him, darling,” Paula says softly to Maxine.
“Tell me what?” asks Sam.
“I can’t violate patient confidentiality,” says Maxine, turning to Paula.
“Tell me what?” he asks again, the volume of his voice rising as he puts his fork down.
“Don’t you think it’s odd that Five has been avoiding us lately?” asks Maxine instead.
“She’s been avoiding me lately,” he says, blowing out a breath of frustration.
“You are with us most of the time,” says Paula.
“Of course I’m with you. We’re having a baby!” His defensiveness is on high alert. There’s nothing wrong with spending time with the mothers of his baby.
“Sam,” says Maxine, “I think you should talk with Five. About…this.”
“I think you should mind your own damn business,” he says, surprised to find he is standing. “Five and I are fine,” he adds, though he doesn’t really believe it.
“Just consider that maybe this situation isn't easy for her,” adds Paula.
Sam takes his tray and leaves the table. The baby shouldn’t matter, has nothing to do with him and Five. And yet, as he reviews the growing catalogue of his observations, he recognizes the common thread. She’s not avoiding him; she’s avoiding all three of them.
Tomorrow, after the mission, he’ll talk to her.