Chapter Text
March, 2166 CE
age 11
Harper stared out at the stars.
The starboard observation area was quiet around this time on the ship. Mid-shift, so anyone who was going to come relax had already done so or wouldn’t be doing so until after they were relieved from duty. The stars were comforting, in their own way. Space was so vast, so expansive, and all those stars could hold entire systems’ worth of life. None of them cared if she was tired, or angry, or bitter. The cosmos was indifferent to the struggles of a preteen girl. It shouldn’t have been comforting, but it was. So she came to the observation deck when she was upset. The window was a little high off the deck, but Harper had learned within a week of her mother being posted here that she could use the back of the seats as a boost. She liked to climb up and tuck herself away in the windowsill when she needed to think. She could pull her knees up, wrap her arms around her ribs, and stare at the stars. Nobody bothered her here.
At the sound of a familiar booted stride, Harper amended her thought to almost nobody.
The woman that had walked up said nothing at first. Instead, she crossed her arms and leaned against the sill to look out at the stars. Harper took the opportunity to look her over. Her being the one and only Lieutenant Commander Hannah Shepard. She was a beautiful woman. Her hair was inky black, black like the space between systems, and its long silky expanse was braided into a crown around Hannah’s head. Her almond eyes were nearly as dark, brown but searching and sharp as a knife. The light from the stars reflected in them; they looked like glittering obsidian. Hannah’s cheekbones were high and strong, doing nothing to soften her appearance. She looked honed. Precise. Military. She was beautiful, and Harper wondered if she would ever be that pretty. When she’d had her fill of looking, she sighed. It would be easier to look at the stars, so she did. The stars were beautiful, too, but they were cold. Cold and impersonal and unfeeling. The stars didn’t care about Harper. Hannah Shepard did. “Mom. What are you doing here?”
“You going to believe me if I say stargazing?”
Harper snorted. “No.”
“Private Laflamme said you looked a little pensive today.” Harper snorted again. Right. Orden was a great guy, said Harper reminded him of his little sister, but definitely not the type of guy to use the word pensive. “Okay, his exact words were ‘Harper looks madder than a hornet’s nest at a birthday party,’ but the idea was there.”
“Sounds like him.”
Hannah shifted so that her shoulder bumped against Harper’s drawn-up knees. “Are you madder than a hornet’s nest at a birthday party? Or is it something else?”
“Something else,” Harper said, trying and probably failing for an even tone.
Hannah turned to look at her daughter, but Harper didn’t look back. Her gaze was locked firmly on something outside the window. “You wanna talk about it?”
“Yeah.” Harper didn’t, not really, but more because she didn’t want to hurt her mom rather than having any second thoughts. They both sat in silence a moment. “I’m supposed to be moving up from primary school this year,” she said.
Hannah hmmed. “Not having second thoughts, are you? We both know you’re ready. Your instructor said you’re ready.”
Harper shook her head. “I’m not having second thoughts, mom. I actually kinda wish you’d let me move up a year early when he’d suggested it.” But that wasn’t what was on her mind, so she let the old argument go. Dealing with two issues at once was going to make talking harder. Better to focus on one and get her thoughts out. “But that’s not the problem.” There wasn’t any problem, really, just Harper’s fierce dislike of making her mom sad. Harper swallowed. “I’d like to go to a real school,” she managed to choke out.
“I just got this posting,” Hannah said softly. “I’m not even able to get leave for a couple more weeks, much less transfer again.”
Harper’s grip on her own shirt tightened. “Dad has a place on the Citadel.”
“You want to go live with your father.” Hannah’s tone was indecipherable. Her expression would have helped to puzzle it out, but Harper didn’t want to look.
“I want to make some friends my age,” Harper argued, and tried not to sound like she was whining. “I love being on ships and traveling and seeing the galaxy, mom. I love you. But I want to be able to go see a vid with my friends after class. I want to have a study group. I…”
“Harper.” Hannah shifted, again, until her grip was careful and firm on Harper’s knee. “Sweetheart, look at me.” The last time Hannah had called her sweetheart was when their shuttle had been shot at and Harper had to go to the med bay. A bullet wound at nine was no small issue. Hannah only ever called her sweetheart when Harper’s well-being was the number one issue on her mind, and nothing could stand in the way of setting her little girl’s world to rights. Harper looked up. Her mom’s smile was soft, and a little sad, but it was there. “You’re allowed to want those things, Harper. That’s perfectly normal. I’ll call your father first thing tomorrow morning.”
Harper knew how much her mom missed her when she went to visit her dad. But she wouldn’t let that get in the way of Harper being happy. Of course she wouldn’t. Hannah Shepard was everything Harper wanted to be when she grew up. Beautiful and badass and the best mom anyone could want. Tears pricked at her eyes, and rather than start crying she unfolded to embrace her mom in a tight hug. Hannah hugged back just as tightly.