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Christina Hammock had flown hundreds of aircraft. She had launched into space, and spent months aboard the International Space Station. She had walked in space. And somehow, on a perfectly ordinary afternoon in a NASA hangar, she managed to break herself getting off a jet. The irony would have been funny if it didn't hurt so much.
"Hey, slow down, hotshot."
Kathryn's voice followed her across the hangar floor, and Christina glanced over her shoulder. Her wife was grinning, flight suit still half-unzipped from her own flight. At thirty-two, Kathryn somehow still carried an endless supply of energy that Christina envied.
"You're one to talk," Christina called back.
"You practically sprinted off that aircraft."
"Because I'm younger than you."
Christina snorted, "By ten years."
"A very important ten years."
"You are so annoying."
"You love me."
"I do."
Kathryn's grin widened. Christina shook her head fondly and turned back toward the aircraft. Then everything happened at once. Her boot caught on a piece of equipment left near the ladder, and her ankle twisted, hard. Pain exploded through her leg. The momentum threw her sideways.
Her shoulder slammed into part of the aircraft support structure, and something cracked. Christina hit the ground. The pain was immediate, sharp. For one disorienting second she couldn't breathe.
"Oh my God."
Kathryn. She was running towards her.
"Chris!"
The concern in her voice cut through everything. Christina tried to sit up, but immediately regretted it, as pain shot through her ankle and shoulder.
"Oh, that's not good."
"Don't move."
"I'm fine."
"You are absolutely not fine."
Christina looked down. Her ankle was already swelling.
"Okay."
"Okay?"
"Maybe not fine."
Kathryn was already kneeling beside her. One hand settled carefully against her back. The other found Christina's hand.
"You hit your head?"
"I don't think so."
"Think harder."
Christina groaned.
"That's not how concussion checks work."
"Answer the question."
"No. I don't think so."
"Okay."
People were gathering now. Ground crew, flight staff. Someone calling emergency services, someone else contacting medical. The familiar NASA machine moving into action. Christina hated being the center of it. She hated being the injured one. The weak one, the one who needed help. She squeezed Kathryn's hand.
"I'm sorry."
Kathryn blinked, "For what?"
"For making a scene."
The look Kathryn gave her could have melted steel. "You fractured yourself."
"Probably."
"You don't have to apologize."
The ambulance arrived minutes later.
・・・・・
The emergency room was bright, too bright. Christina sat on the examination bed while doctors moved efficiently around her. Questions, vitals, blood work, neuro checks, X-rays, more questions. Kathryn never left her side, not once, eventually a doctor returned carrying results.
"Good news first."
Christina looked up.
"No concussion."
Kathryn visibly relaxed.
"Your shoulder isn't broken. Significant strain and bruising, but nothing surgical."
"Okay."
The doctor nodded.
"Your ankle is fractured."
Christina sighed.
"Wonderful."
"A relatively clean fracture. You'll need a boot, crutches for a while, physical therapy, and plenty of rest."
The word rest sounded vaguely threatening. Astronauts weren't supposed to rest. They were supposed to train, work, push through, keep going. The doctor continued.
"I'm also prescribing pain medication."
Christina's stomach dropped. Immediately. A physical reaction she couldn't stop. Her face twisted, a cringe. Tiny, but obvious. The doctor noticed; Kathryn noticed, and their eyes met briefly, yet neither said anything. Christina looked away first.
"Okay."
The doctor nodded carefully.
"We'll send everything to the pharmacy."
Then he left, and the room felt suddenly smaller. Kathryn squeezed her hand. Neither spoke, and neither needed to.
・・・・・
NASA handled everything, Insurance, and documentation. Worker's comp, and paperwork. By the time Christina was discharged, Kathryn had somehow managed all of it. Christina sat in a wheelchair feeling ridiculous.
"I hate this."
"I know."
"I'm forty-six."
"I know."
"I walked in space."
"I know."
"I'm being wheeled to a parking lot."
Kathryn laughed. The sound was warm, gentle. Comforting.
"You are very brave."
"You're making fun of me."
"A little."
Christina rolled her eyes, but Kathryn leaned down and kissed her forehead.
"I love you."
The irritation vanished instantly.
"That's cheating."
"Absolutely."
・・・・・
The drive home was quiet, but comfortable. Christina held Kathryn's hand whenever traffic allowed. Their fingers intertwined over the center console. Every few minutes Kathryn glanced over. Checking. Christina smiled each time and every time Kathryn smiled back, but beneath the warmth sat a familiar fear. A bottle of medication waiting in a pharmacy bag. Neither of them mentioned it, not yet.
・・・・・
Back home, Christina settled onto the couch. Blankets, pillows, ice packs, an impressive nest assembled by Kathryn.
"I live here now."
"Correct."
"You'll bring me snacks?"
"Obviously."
"Excellent."
Kathryn laughed, then put on a documentary. Something about the Hubble Space Telescope and the James Webb Space Telescope. Christina watched brilliant galaxies appear across the screen. Visible light v. Infrared. Two different ways of seeing the same universe. The narrator explained how Webb could peer through dust clouds that blocked Hubble's view. Christina tried focusing, really tried. Instead her gaze kept drifting. Toward the medication bottle sitting on the coffee table, waiting.
The longer she looked at it, the harder breathing became. Her chest tightened, thoughts spiraled.
What if I need it too much?
What if I like it?
What if—
What if I'm not strong enough?
Her hands started shaking, and Kathryn noticed immediately. The documentary paused.
"Chris?"
Christina swallowed, "I don't want to take them."
Kathryn moved closer, "What part?"
All of it. The answer sat heavy in her chest.
"When I was younger..."
Her voice cracked.
"I hurt myself."
Kathryn already knew Not every detail, but enough. Christina rarely talked about it.
"I know."
"I worked so hard to stop."
Kathryn nodded.
"I know."
"What if this is different?"
"What if it isn't?"
"What if I can't handle it?"
Kathryn reached for both of her hands.
"You aren't taking medication because you want to escape."
Christina looked down.
"You aren't taking medication because you want to feel different."
A pause.
"You're taking medication because you broke your ankle."
Tears burned unexpectedly.
"But what if—"
"Chris."
Kathryn's voice softened.
"You are not the same person you were twenty years ago."
Silence.
"You have spent decades proving your strength."
Christina laughed weakly.
"Apparently not enough to survive a ladder."
That earned a smile.
"Apparently not."
The tension eased slightly, enough to breathe. Enough to continue watching the documentary, for now.
・・・・・
Later Kathryn cooked dinner as Christina sat at the kitchen island watching.
"Need quality control."
"Of course."
"I take my responsibilities seriously."
Kathryn stirred something in a pan.
"I know."
They talked about flying. About the feeling of acceleration, and the joy of being airborne. The familiar language of pilots, the conversation felt normal, comforting. Like maybe the day hadn't been a disaster, like maybe things would be okay. For a little while they almost forgot.
Then Kathryn went to the bathroom. And Christina was alone. And the medication sat on the counter, waiting.
Her eyes locked onto it. Suddenly all the fear came back. Stronger, faster. Breathing became impossible. Her heart pounded, and the room spun. No.
No no no. She couldn't do this. Couldn't. Couldn't. Couldn't. By the time Kathryn returned, Christina was crying, hyperventilating. Hands trembling violently.
"Chris," Kathryn crossed the room instantly, "Hey."
Christina couldn't answer.
"Look at me."
She couldn't. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. Couldn't stop. Kathryn knelt beside her chair, both hands gently holding her face.
"Follow my breathing."
Nothing.
"Please."
Christina focused on her. In. Out. In. Out. Again. Again. Again. Slowly the panic loosened. Not gone, but manageable.
"I can't."
The words finally emerged.
"Yes, you can."
"What if I get addicted?"
"What if I become someone else?"
Kathryn's eyes filled with sadness.
"Then I'll help you."
A tear slid down Christina's cheek.
"And if I don't?"
"Then I'll still help you."
Another breath.
"And if I fail?"
Kathryn pressed her forehead against Christina's.
"Then we'll handle it together."
The panic eased. Little by little until all that remained was exhaustion.
・・・・・
They went to bed.
Christina still hadn't taken the medication, she told herself she didn't need it.
Told herself she could handle it.
Told herself she was strong, the pain disagreed.
・・・・・
2:03 AM.
Christina stared into darkness. Every part of her hurt. Her ankle throbbed relentlessly, her shoulder burned. She hadn't really slept, just drifted in and out of miserable half-consciousness. Eventually a sob escaped, then another. Beside her Kathryn woke immediately.
"Chris?"
Christina turned away, embarrassed.
"I'm okay."
"You are crying."
"I'm fine."
"You are literally crying."
Another tear escaped, "I shouldn't be."
Kathryn moved closer.
"Why?"
Christina stared at the ceiling.
"Because crying is weak."
The words sounded stupid the moment she said them. Kathryn looked horrified.
"Who told you that?"
Christina didn't answer, didn't need to. Years of expectations. Years of pressure. Years of being the strong one, the capable one, the astronaut, the survivor. Kathryn gently brushed hair from her face.
"Crying doesn't make you weak."
Christina's voice cracked.
"I can't handle this."
"Yes you can."
"I'm forty-six."
"And?"
"I should be tougher."
Kathryn shook her head.
"You have a fractured ankle."
More tears.
"Chris."
The nickname was soft. Tender, loving.
"You don't have to earn pain relief."
Silence.
"You don't get extra points for suffering."
Christina laughed weakly through tears. Kathryn reached toward the bedside tableand picked up the medication, then held it out. No pressure, just an offer. A choice. Christina stared at it, for a very long time. Then finally, very carefully, she took it.
・・・・・
An hour later the edge of the pain had dulled. For the first time all day Christina relaxed, really relaxed. Kathryn held her close, one arm wrapped carefully around her waist.
"Better?"
Christina nodded.
"A little."
"Good."
"I'm sorry."
Kathryn sighed, "There it is."
"What?"
"The apology."
Christina smiled weakly, "Sorry."
That made Kathryn laugh. The sound filled the darkness. And eventually, finally, Christina slept.
・・・・・
Morning sunlight spilled across the bedroom. For the first time in almost twenty-four hours Christina woke without pain immediately overwhelming her. Kathryn was already awake, reading. One arm draped across Christina's side. Christina smiled.
"Morning."
Kathryn looked up. The smile she gave her was instant.
"Morning."
For a moment neither spoke, then Christina shifted closer.
"Thank you."
Kathryn set her book aside, "For what?"
"For yesterday... For all of it."
Kathryn's expression softened, "You don't have to thank me."
"I do," Christina reached for her hand, "You stayed with me through every panic attack."
Kathryn squeezed her fingers, "You would've done the same."
"I know. But it still matters."
The room was quiet. Warm, safe.
"I love you."
Kathryn smiled.
"I love you too."
"No."
Christina shook her head.
"You don't understand."
Tears threatened unexpectedly.
"You make everything easier."
Kathryn listened.
"You make me laugh."
A smile.
"You make me feel safe."
Another smile.
"You never make me earn being loved."
Kathryn's eyes glistened.
"And every day I wake up next to you and somehow I'm still surprised I got this lucky."
For a second Kathryn couldn't speak. Then she leaned forward, and pressed a kiss to Christina's forehead.
"I love you because you're brave."
Christina laughed softly.
"Questionable timing."
"I'm serious."
Kathryn smiled.
"I love how curious you are."
Another kiss.
"I love how kind you are."
Another.
"I love how you look at stars."
Another.
"I love how much you care about people."
Now Christina's eyes watered.
"And I love that even after everything you've survived, you still choose kindness."
Christina squeezed her hand.
"I love you too."
Kathryn smiled, "I know."
"I love your optimism."
A grin.
"I love how you never stop believing things can get better."
Another grin.
"I love your ridiculous confidence."
"That's fair."
"I love how you make every room brighter."
Kathryn's cheeks pinked.
"And I love how you always show up when I need you."
The smile that followed could have powered a city. Christina looked at her wife, really looked at her. The woman who had sat beside hospital beds, handled paperwork, stopped panic attacks. Held her through the night, and loved her through grief and fear and pain.
Four years married, and somehow she still felt lucky every single day. Christina leaned forward. Pressed her forehead against Kathryn's.
"I'm so glad I married you."
Kathryn laughed softly, the happiest sound in the world.
"Good."
A kiss.
"Because I'm not going anywhere."
And for the first time since the accident, Christina believed everything was going to be okay.