Work Text:
When Chris wakes up, the other half of the bed is already empty. He checks the chronometer — it’s not yet 0800 — and then searches the mattress for any lingering warmth. Frowning when he finds none, he climbs out of bed and follows a hunch into the living room.
Sure enough, he finds Marie sitting on the couch, staring out into space. “Hey,” he says softly. She looks up as he takes a seat beside her. “How long have you been awake?”
“Not that long.” They both know it’s a lie.
“More nightmares?” She nods. “You could’ve woken me.”
“You had a late night; I wanted to make sure you got enough rest.” She fidgets with the fringe of her blanket. “You still have a crew to command. I don’t.”
“Was that what it was about? Your court martial?” Chris asks. “It’s just a formality. Everyone knows there was nothing you could have done.”
“Maybe.” Marie’s gaze refocuses on the window.
Chris doesn’t bother to correct her. He may not have had a ship go down before, but he’s lost enough crew to be uncomfortably familiar with the experience and he knows that there aren’t words to take it away. Instead, he lets the silence sit for as long as he can bear until he can’t hold back. “Have you eaten yet?”
“I’m not hungry.”
He stands anyway, unwrapping the blanket from around her shoulders. “I’ll make pancakes.”
“Pancakes won’t fix this, Chris.”
“I know. But neither will sitting around thinking about what could have been,” he says. “And we both need to eat.” He extends his hand to her. “Will you help me with the hash browns?”
Marie nods. She forces a small smile and accepts his help to stand up. “Thank you, Chris.”
Chris squeezes her hand. “Of course.”