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Suletta touches the glass pane reflecting a faint mirror of her hand coasting through the sea of stars just on the other side. From inside it looks thin, but she knows the layers are thick, ensuring the most security she can hope to have between her fragile body and the vast, harsh vacuum of space. Soft, sky blue eyes gaze downward at the pale dot of the earth. Sliding her hand down the glass, a small cargo ship peters by, tutting along on its solemn journey. The last year since the Quiet Zero incident has been slow, tedious, and mournful. The vision of Miorine, weeping with sorrow and relief, still hasn’t peeled itself away from the back of her eyelids. Even now, she hesitates closing them, forcing her eyes to linger on the object passing by the viewing window for a little longer. It’s a bittersweet memory.
It’s only been a month since she’s been able to move again. In the rare moments she is not under the careful and diligent watch of the Benerit group doctors, she steals away time in the atrium, where her still recovering body can enjoy all the benefits of being weightless. The glass box is a prism through which all the starlight passing by simply shifts through, transforming visions of stars into a myriad pool of sparkles. The earth, still a tantalizing distance away, sits in the center of the ceiling of glass. A small pang of guilt bites at her for obscuring the sight of their home from the rows of plants behind her, but she reminds herself this is only a fleeting moment for her.
Her wistful smile sours as her hand is lifted off the glass. The peace between her and Miorine has been frequently disrupted lately. So many little things. Suletta became frustrated during physical training the other day, and interrupted Miorine’s encouragement with a clipped, harsh rebuttal. Later that day, she complained that Miorine had not brought her the same kind of apple she usually eats in the afternoon along with her hospital food. Even this morning, Suletta stumbled mentally while messaging her fiancee back a curt reply to her heartfelt encouragement. Something is getting to her, but she can’t tease out the root of the problem.
Recovery has been difficult, for certain. She’s had her bad days, but she’s never taken it out on Miorine before. Crossing her arms, she grips the top of each one in an attempt to self soothe. Movement sets her adrift, spinning slowly away from the well of stars. It isn’t like her at all. Disconcertment growing, she tries to recall the ways Miorine has been there for her. She visits whenever she can, often bringing fresh fruit and flowers to add flavor and color to her hospital room. When she can be around for her physical training, she gives Suletta such sweet words of support, along with reassuring gestures of touch, where it doesn’t hurt.
“I need to be more grateful,” she whispers to herself, the shining pearls in the glass growing ever smaller, “Miorine is trying hard, too.”
Even though she talks about how much work she has to do, Suletta always feels like Miorine leaves some of the tougher details out, as though to spare her the worry. But it makes the concern only grow larger. They’re supposed to share burdens, regardless of the weight they carry. The load will lighten if they do.
Miorine always focuses on her when she’s here. Maybe that’s it. Suletta needs to know more. She needs to understand what is weighing heavy on the heart of her beloved. She mistakenly believed surviving Quiet Zero would’ve finally broken down those impossibly high walls Miorine clung to for so long. Apparently old habits died hard. Didn’t she prove to Miorine that she could carry the hard things? Maybe she didn’t explain herself directly enough. Yes, that must be where this strange stuntedness is coming from.
Letting go of the grip on herself, she squeezes her fist impossibly tight, a signal of her resolve. It is only then, she realizes she has nothing to grab onto to push herself back towards the floor.
She had to wait until she could call out to a passing nurse to bring her down, then of course she received an earful from the doctor on duty for her that day. They lectured about being unable to look Ms. Miorine in the eyes if something happened to Suletta. Her excursions are to be monitored from now on, but the disappointment from hearing that was muted by thinking how she is going to look Miorine in the eyes. After the doctor left, Suletta stared at her phone on her side table, contemplating how best to make up for her shortness the night before.
Leaning over, she scoops up the phone. She flicks over to her chat with Miorine, still written out formally with her full name. It might help to finally give her a nickname in her contacts. She had always wanted to do that in school. Fumbling with her phone, she types a few things in to see how they feel. Mio-Mio had been a definitive no, MiMi is also likely to be refused. Maybe something lovey dovey like, “My betrothed" or “Love of my Life”. Her hair flutters as she shakes her head emphatically. It needs to be something simple, but obvious. Clicking on and off her keyboard, Suletta accidentally smacks the button for the secondary keyboard. Quizzically, she inspects it, seeing all the shapes and symbols now at her finger tips. A warm, satisfied smile crosses her lips as she sees her answer.
Removing Miorine’s last name, she simply puts two hearts on either side of her given name. They sit, guardians signaling the pure and earnest love Suletta has for her stubborn fiancee. With renewed vigor, Suletta regroups on what to send in their private chat.
The “alright” she sent to Miorine’s paragraph of support causes her heartbeat to betray the nerves she has been trying hard to ignore. Glancing back up at the changed name, she redoubles her efforts, and begins typing. The “message read” notification below her last message hangs like a sword dangling on a thin string as she writes, erases, rewrites, erases, and writes once more.
Nothing comes out right.
Smacking the phone into her head, she finally relents. Instead of saying something to Miorine, she'll just have to show her feelings. Taking a screenshot of the updated contact info, she sends it along with the message, “Look, I changed your name in my phone! Isn’t it cute?”
Suletta watches eagerly as the image is uploaded along with her message, a small unread badge next to it. Miorine is likely on the flight over to the hospital right now, probably taking some sort of business call or shuffling through urgent documents. She might not have a chance to look at the message until she arrives. Hopefully not, that would defeat the point of trying to be proactive and smooth over the discomfort of last night.
Two rapid knocks on the door - not nearly enough time for Suletta to drag herself out of the daze of her own remorseful thoughts. The attending nurse announces her presence, a second pair of steps ordered neatly behind her. Miorine smiles. It's soft, sensitive, and reserved exclusively for Suletta. The nurse leaves them alone, telling Suletta that her dinner will be brought when she rings for it. Her fingers scrunch the stiff blanket laid over her lap, the tightness in her mind spreading to her extremities. She needs to show her resolve.
“M-Miorine, you’re early, were your meetings shorter today?”
Suletta watches Miorine take a breath, her inhale breaking her out of the shell of measured movements and restrained facial expressions. The exhale reforms her back into the stern, somewhat neurotic woman she loves.
Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, she puts her hand over Suletta’s, who unclenches hers, “No - no meetings today, the board is adjourned for the next few weeks, remember?”
A slap to Suletta’s psyche, she had forgotten. “Oh, right…”
Miorine leans over, inspecting Suletta’s expression, “What about you? What’s going on?”
A nervous glance away. She’s already tripped up. Of course she forgot what Miorine’s schedule is. How stupid can she be? Miorine never forgets a single moment of Suletta’s day, even knows what she’s being served at mealtimes and asks every day for her rating of them. Vines of self-contempt wrap around the base of her thoughts, constricting her honesty. She is cut off from Miorine’s kindness.
“I’ve just been more tired recently, the doctors say that happens when you start improving again.”
A hand shoots up from out of her vision, grabbing Suletta’s left cheek and turning it so that she can do nothing but look into Miorine’s silvery eyes, “You’re lying again. What did I tell you about being honest with me?”
Looking down in self-contempt to once again avoid her fiancee’s piercing gaze, Suletta notices the folds of the dress shirt underneath the charcoal blazer that nicely accentuates Miorine’s chest. She doesn’t deserve the effort put in for her. She’s in no shape to return the kindness Miorine is showing her.
“I forgot you were done with the board meetings for now - I forgot to ask about your schedule. I haven’t been thinking about you at all,” she begins to choke up a little bit, the reservoir spilling over the sides.
A second hand comes up, caressing both sides of her face, brushing past the scars from the Permet overload burns etched into Suletta’s face like whiskers. Even if the scar tissue hadn’t been overly sensitive, Miorine’s touch leaves a pleasant trail as she speaks, “Silly, you only just regained the ability to get out of bed yourself, you’re doing physical training nearly every day, of course you’re going to lose track of things.”
Teary eyed, the Mercurian girl sniffles and shoots back, more at herself than her partner, “But I care about you the most. How can I be a good fiancee when I can’t remember to ask such basic questions..”
“Suletta,” rigidity returned to Miorine’s voice, and Suletta flinches, remembering all the times it was accompanied by a reproachful slap, “you’re being too hard on yourself. I can remember to tell you these things if it’s bothering you that much.”
“That’s not-” that’s not the problem, Suletta thinks to herself, “okay, Miorine, if you think so.”
The problem lies solely with her. Her faulty memory, her self-prescribed selfishness. Miorine is so perfect and effortless in the way she attends to Suletta. Despite all of the love and grace her fiancee shows her, she never feels capable of returning it. The smile returning to her love’s face is enough to convince her this is for the best, for now. An unseen hand grips coldly around her heart, and a rift Miorine could never possibly see grows further in the depths of Suletta’s mind.
The rest of the visit passes like it always does. Suletta orders her dinner. Miorine slices an apple and feeds it to her. They laugh, they hug, they kiss. Miorine chuckles with endearment at the nickname Suletta gave her in her phone. Suletta is happy, despite the gnawing guilt in the bottom of her stomach. She forgot, then she lied. These feelings are multiplicative, not additive.
Miorine collects her things, tying her hair back up, and latching her suitcase shut, “Oh, and since we talked about it earlier, I’m gonna let you know I have a conference starting on Friday, so I won’t be back until next weekend. That’s why I wanted to come out and see you today.”
A fresh wave of guilt hollows out her chest. Suletta’s eyelids slump as she responds, “Okay, I’ll remember this time.”
Miorine gives her another kiss and hugs her goodbye. The warmth of her affection is quickly subsumed by an onslaught of pensive thoughts.
I need to remember. I need to remember. Why couldn’t I remember? Why can’t I remember?
A restless night of torturing herself for her own forgetfulness makes the next day’s exercises difficult. Suletta injures herself doing one of her stretches incorrectly.
She’s back on bedrest for five days until she feels better. However, the stillness only amplifies her guilt. She’s resorted to messaging Miorine several times a day, asking almost incessantly about how she’s doing. What are the talks like? Any interesting investments? Are there promising inventions? However, none of it abates the guilt already seeded into the fertile soil of her heart. Neither her actions nor Miorine’s own words can assuage her now. She wishes she could step out and look at the stars again, but all of the nurses tell her no. They stop her whenever she attempts to leave the room on her own.
It is a torturous week of sinking ever further into the gaps in her own mind. Miorine can only respond intermittently - her job keeps her so busy, even on outings such as a conference. Time passes at different measures in the sterile hospital room. Sunflowers, once standing tall at attention, perking in every direction, have now wilted. They sit slumped and defeated. Suletta often replicates this posture as she holds her phone in her hands, eager for the next moment to think of Miorine.
The next Friday, Miorine appears, just like she promised to the day before via messages, and the week before in person. Suletta slides up from the cover of her blanket as soon as the raps are heard on the door, sitting upright the moment Miorine crosses the threshold into the room. She won’t mess up this time. She’s spent too long ruminating.
Miorine brought new, fresh flowers. She asks the nurse to throw the old ones in the trash while placing a bundle of red roses into the vase. As soon as the nurse does this, she once again reminds Suletta to call her dinner before it gets too late, and leaves. Now alone, Suletta immediately asks how Miorine’s conference was.
She laughs, almost in disbelief, her shell of professionalism instantly bursting away from her, “Suletta, you were asking me about it the entire time I was there,” she wipes her eyes from the comedy of it.
Suletta grips her sheets once again, “I just wanted to make sure to ask again, now, in case there were things you might have wanted to say in person.”
“You’re silly, country bumpkin,” Miorine leans over, once again shedding that prim and proper exterior as she kisses Suletta. Something about this one feels different. Maybe it’s because of how long it's been since they kissed, maybe it's how the sensation drags Suletta out of her own mind. The tenderness of her lips, the lingering fingers brushing across her whiskers again, the feeling of Miorine’s warmth so close to her. Suletta does, suddenly, feel very silly. Like last week was a bad dream.
“Miorine, I…” she gazes wistfully at her fiancee, soaking in the affection from her eyes, as though she is feeling the light of the sun again for the first time.
“I’ve been worried so much that I’m not doing enough for you.”
Surprise splashes across Miorine’s face, and the room shrinks to a point around just the two women. The fragile, desperate intimacy shatters with the raw, honest admission. Miorine retreats, by instinct or reaction, Suletta isn’t sure. Suletta catches it, her face falling immediately. Then, comprehension and determination lighting her face, Miorine launches forward, crashing her head into Suletta’s.
Their heads collide, red hair jolting as Suletta’s head lurches back, both hands covering where the rock hard head of the GUND-ARM CEO just smashed into it.
“You idiot!” she says with a firm reprimand, “How could you not be doing enough for me? You nearly died a year ago. Do you think it’s so easy to come back from something like that?”
Nursing her freshly bonked forehead, Suletta whimpers openly at Miorine’s objection, “I’ve only been messaging you so much because I messed up badly before - I haven’t been attentive enough to you -”
Miorine’s fingers run through her hair, gently cupping the back of her head and bringing it into her chest, patting her gently with the other hand, “And who says you haven’t been doing enough for me? Did I say that to you?”
Suletta snuggles in some, taking advantage of the comforting sensation of being pet, along with the softness of Miorine’s suit, “Well, no,”
“Your only job is to recover. That is what you can do for me, do you understand?”
“Well… yes, but,”
“No buts. Not unless it's yours in my lap.”
“Ms. Miorine!”
Her fiancee laughs passionately, content with her ability to fluster Suletta. She lets go of Suletta’s head, gives another comforting look, then sits down next to Suletta, leaning against her shoulder.
“If anything, I’m worried I’m not doing enough for you. My work always keeps me busy and takes me away far more often than I’d like. You’ve been putting so much effort into your recovery. I wish I could be here for you more.”
The other woman’s hand traces over Suletta’s, the gentle brush of her fingers across her digits is reassuring. Suletta reaches out and intertwines her hand with Miorine’s.
“Miorine…I didn’t know,”
Miorine flicks her ear, “Of course you didn’t, those anxieties of yours get in your own way so much of the time. I don’t want to add to it.”
Suletta shifts, scooting to the side of the bed, allowing Miorine to fully climb onto the soft mattress. She releases her hand, raises an arm, and tucks Miorine under it; both to put her in the position that feels best for Suletta, and to prevent any more physical retributions that may come along with her verbal ones. They sit quietly, comfortably.
For a long while, she just feels Miorine’s breathing. In and out, rising softly, falling quickly. The room, once small and constraining around them, falls away as she holds her bride-to-be. She remembers once, how hard she fought to keep her, and how she almost lost her. The despair she felt then is nothing like the small frustrations she feels now.
“Oh!” Suletta exclaims.
Miorine swivels her head up in surprise, “What are you shouting for? Do you want the nurses to interrupt us?”
The realization has happened, but Suletta can’t find a way to broach it, not with the peace between them like this, “S-sorry. I just thought that it’s been a while since we went out together.”
Thinking on this, Miorine puts a hand to her chin, “I suppose you have been cooped up for quite some time, even though you shouldn’t have been out and about by yourself the other week,”
Suletta giggles, scratching the back of her head repentantly.
“Even so,” Miorine slides down against Suletta, her arms squeezing around her waist as she settles, “I’ll ask the doctors if I can take you out soon. There’s a colony nearby with a beautiful artificial beach. If we don’t take you far, I imagine we can get away with it. Swimming is supposed to be good low-impact exercise.”
“Yes,” Suletta puts her hand on Miorine’s head this time, feeling the strands of her tightly kept hair as she plucks a few of them out of line, “I’d like that very much, my love.”
Miorine buries her head into Suletta’s abdomen, her voice so soft, Suletta almost didn’t catch it, “I like when you say that.”
“What was that?” Suletta asked, a small smile playing on her lips.
Miorine reaches up and tugs her ear in playful warning. She does not repeat the rare, vulnerable sentiment.
Suletta’s dinner order is late that night, and she ends up eating the apple Miorine brought by hand as they continue laying with each other. She feels mostly at peace again. Her earlier revelation still sits in the back of her mind, but it does not weigh on her like the guilt had before. Miorine falls into a light slumber as she slumps against Suletta, the tiny snores coming from such a boisterous woman bringing an ear-bridging smile to her face. She’ll tell Miorine what she thought of tonight at the beach when they go. She shouldn’t be afraid to tell her fiancee what’s on her mind.
It takes some convincing to authorize Suletta’s outing, but there is no one better at negotiation than Miorine Rembrandt. As the nurses bring in her wheelchair to escort her to the shuttle, Suletta considers with an entertaining thought and a fluttery heart that, soon, it will be Miorine Mercury. Yet another jab she can take at that over-bearing father of hers. Suletta didn’t mind one way or the other, but it seemed to matter a lot to Miorine. She mentioned once about wanting to be Suletta’s, how she didn’t want the Rembrandt name to absorb yet another person. Glancing over, Miorine is in casual clothes for one of the only times Suletta has ever seen. A beautiful light blue sundress, with sunglasses perched on the top of her head, and a large woven brim hat tucked into the clear beach bag hanging off her shoulder.
“You look fantastic, Ms. Miorine!” Suletta blurts as she is pushed by.
Miorine faintly blushes, speaking quietly, “Fool, you always say that when you’re thinking untowards thoughts,” she raises her voice slightly, ”We’ll get you changed out of the gown on the way over, it’s only two hours away.”
Suletta’s mouth drops open at the assertion. Miorine is always the one reading too much into what she says! Before she can protest, the attendants usher her away. It’s a welcome relief to see the halls of the hospital wade by on the way to the loading dock. After a brief stop to check out and receive a small wrist band with all of her emergency care information loaded onto it, Suletta finally boards the private shuttle Miorine rented for this very special outing.
It’s a peaceful ride, thankfully. Suletta can’t help but think of the other shuttles she’s taken and how dramatically terrifying they ended up being. Between Plant Quetta and the ride to Quiet Zero, she’s nearly developed a complex about it. This time, though, she is able to enjoy the comfortable silence her and Miorine are privileged to share. It is rare that Suletta feels so at ease around someone that she sees no need to carry conversation every five minutes. When they’re close to the colony, Miorine escorts her back with her walker to get changed into her beach clothes. Her fiancee prepared a simple but elegant yellow sundress, complementing Miorine’s color perfectly. Slipping a pair of brilliantly white beach sandals onto her feet, Miorine pauses to cherish the wondrous sight of her partner, finally dressed up for a date.
During the landing process, Miorine puts Suletta’s hair up in the usual pony tail that was always her signature back in Asticassia. After unloading, getting into a personal vehicle, and driving some ways, Suletta finally catches sight of the sandy shores of this colony’s artificial beach. Waves slump and slosh against the near-sparkling white sands of the beach head, with sunbathers and swimmers dotting the entirety of the area. Miorine leans against Suletta once again and smiles.
Miorine speaks softly, but with an intimate passion, “They focus some of the solar rays into this area of the colony so you can actually get a tan. The waves are generated by plates underneath the floor paneling that shift and slide to simulate the pull of the moon’s gravity. It’s quite a unique invention, don’t you think?”
Suletta looks down at her fiancee, “Are they like the waves down on Earth?”
Nestling into her shoulder, she sighs, “No, not at all. The waves on Earth are much stronger. This is like a kiddie pool compared to them. But it’s a nice simulacrum.”
Looking back out, Suletta tucks a reminder into the folds of her thoughts to find a beach down on Earth when they go together. An island might do nicely. She tries to remember the islands she learned about when she was younger, asking her mom about what Earth was like. She can only remember one.
“How about the Virgin Islands?” She blurts out.
Miorine wrenches her shoulder, “Huh? Trying to say something?”
“No!”
The car stops, and they disembark on a walkway leading to the beach, paved with light colored wood that Suletta’s wheelchair clacks across as she glides over it. Avoiding the sand for now, Miorine pushes her to the small pier that juts out along the outermost section of the beach. There’s no one there, seeing as everyone else would rather be on the sand or in the water itself. While there’s no breeze, the soft crashing of the waves offers a calming ambience for the two. Suletta lifts herself out of her chair, bracing against the sturdy wood of the railing. Miorine takes her place beside her, wrapping her arm in the nook of Suletta’s as they stand side by side.
Swallowing, Suletta knows this is the best time to share her feelings. She trusts Miorine. She loves Miorine. No matter how many times she assures herself of those facts, divulging her anxieties and insecurities never gets easier. Maybe in time, she will get better at it. Right now, though, she almost wishes she was dealing with the pain of piloting Calibarn again instead. She puts her opposite hand on the railing. It has to be now.
She starts, “Y-you know Miorine, I realized something the other day, about why I might be feeling so off.”
“Please share,” Miorine says, clearly caught off guard by Suletta’s choice of topic in this scenic vista.
“It’s been almost one year since I lost that duel, and stopped being your groom, for a brief time,” there is a frigid disquiet in her voice, like she doesn’t want to accept those events happened.
“Right,” Miorine’s deflated voice responds, “I don’t think I’ll ever rid myself of the guilt over that. I’m sorry, Suletta.”
Both of them have lost track of how many times she’s said that.
Suletta turns to look at her, panic settling into her eyes, “No, no, I’m not trying to make you feel bad, I know you were trying to protect me. We talked about it already, it’s just…”She feels Miorine’s grip on her arm weaken as the woman looks away, a splash of water shoots up one of the pier legs, “It’s just…I think my body remembers it, still. I think I’m on edge. Thinking I had lost you like that.”
Miorine turns back, her eyes gleaming from the subtle concentration of solar rays, themselves acting as reflectors onto Suletta, “You won’t lose me again. This is how I chose to protect you now. By staying right here.”
Pulling her back in, Suletta kisses the top of her head, “I know, Miorine. Maybe we could plan something like this every year around this time. Keep soothing the scar of that memory. For both of us.”
A large, unbridled smile dashes across Miorine’s face in time with the waves, and for a moment, she shines brighter than the beach itself, “I would like that very much, my dear Suletta.”
“I love you, Miorine.”
“I love you, too, country bumpkin.”