Work Text:
“Serena,” he said, her old Mentor. He never came by. It was the guilt.
“Jack. What are you here for?” she asked. It could only be business, because even Jack wasn’t that sentimental.
“A First Officer’s after me,” he said, and time stopped, because that couldn’t be true.
She shook her head. “Why—why come to me?”
He shrugged, this helpless motion from one of their best. “You’re the last of mine. Come with me.” And nothing said it better than her motions, to take her weapons, to close her shop, with the flowers she’d started loving, just because he asked.