Chapter Text
Somehow, you and your partner Cardia escaped the Impostors' takeover of MIRA HQ.
Although, to be completely honest, "escape" was an overstatement - Cardia lost an arm and a leg, and you were dying from hypothermia and a a gaping wound from an Impostor's tongue. While your senior status allowed you a cozy, all-expenses-paid convalescence in Polus' best medical hospital, your datemate, still climbing through the ranks emself, has no such luck.
Heart pounding inside your ribcage, you abandon your task to rush to the Medbay of Polus’ Alpha Outpost. You plead your datemate to let you pay for eir treatment - Damn the rules against on-the-job relationships, damn the cutthroat nature of MIRA’s rank system, damn their tracking all your accounts. You want your lover, your best friend, to survive!
"I'll be fine," Cardia reassures you, remaining arm propping eir face on the handrest of eir wheelchair. Your partner smiles ruefully behind eir helmet. “You shouldn’t risk your job for me, darling.”
The unsaid: They have no use for an amputee. I’ll resign and settle down.
“I don’t care about this damn job!” you snap, voice rising with every word, “All it does is take… I lost my team, Cardia! I’m not gonna let them get you too!”
Feedback.
The noise rang in both your commlinks. Cardia flinches - you deflate. You shoot em an apologetic look. You can’t upset em, not when ey was still recovering. And it wasn’t eir fault. Not even MIRA’s fault, per se.
Outside your space suits, the below-freezing winter winds of Polus blow through the windows, making high-pitched sounds as they hit the walls of the corridor. You wonder who the supervisor of this base is - in MIRA HQ, such lack of maintenance could cost them their rank, just like what happened to your own supervisor.
Before the Impostors killed him, something in your mind whispers. Your space suit is temp-regulated, but something inside you freezes anyway.
Don’t think about the past, you scold it. Think about now. You turn your attention to the shoddy job the Alpha doctors did.
Is this how they repaid em?
Your lover saved you from the Impostors. Ey got so much information on the artifacts, did all eir tasks well… "How could they leave you like this, Cardia?” you cry, throwing your hands up between the two of you. “You should've gotten a promotion - or at least some prosthetics!”
You gesture at Cardia’s, well, whole body, scowling. “These damned doctors…"
Really, what a waste of medical degrees! They only cleaned off Cardia's blood and put em in a new space suit, tying the limbless sleeves with clasps you’re not even sure are airtight. And it’s purple. You’d reckon ey doesn’t want to wear yellow anymore, not after what had happened in MIRA HQ, but… that’s not the point. The point is-
"There’s no more doctors, love," Cardia cuts off your train of thoughts. Ey beckons you with a hand gesture; you move closer, so close your helmets touch. "This Medbay's run by the chemists now.”
“Oh,” you say numbly.
As if reading your mind, Cardia cups the “cheek” of your helmet with eir hand, eir lips puckered for a kiss that could never be done in a place like this. Familiarity - warmth of safer times - courses in your veins, followed by memories.
Discreetly holding hands on the dropship…
Silly not-kisses in front of cameras…
Stealing glances on emergency meetings…
Hearts filled with confidence you no longer have. The reminder pains you, but - your heart clenches. Unless you had a good plan, this might be the last time you see each other in person. So you smile, pucker your lips, and stroke the top of Cardia’s helmet. Wishing you could run your fingers through eir soft curls, caress eir dark skin, and nestle against eir warmth.
As an alternative, you bend down to hug your partner, squeezing eir tall, broad form. You can’t even feel their heartbeat, but Cardia’s palm on your back makes up for it. So is the regular rise and fall of eir body.
Breathe in…
Breathe out…
In…
Out.
You’re both here. Safe. Alive. No Impostors around you.
...Right?
Right. You squeeze yourself against Cardia, calming your short breaths with eir steady rhythm.
In…
And out.
Neither of you says anything for a while.
But time ticks by whether you want it or not. The Polus wind whistles yet again, only briefly interrupted by footsteps - footsteps from what may or may not be your crewmates.
Cardia tenses in your arms.
A shuddering breath escapes your body.
Somehow, despite the screaming in your head, you extract yourself from your partner’s embrace.