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When Cook was writing emails, they let the first thing that came to mind hit the keyboard. That's how you ended up with a hundred exclamation points, strangely worded sentences, and shattered cuts of unintelligable excitement in your inbox. Proofreading? What's that? You were going to have an letter clearly alluding to Taco Tuesday and then get quesadillas for dinner, whether you liked it or not.
On that note, Cook loved writing emails. None of it was ever all that important stuff—the readied menus for each day were available in the cafeteria, and that's not to mention that Cook would be overjoyed to tell you what they were prepping for that night. But it made them feel included, and professional. Against the sea of Engineer's long-winded and explanatory messages, Captain's assertive and empowering asks, and Doctor's short-but-sweet demands, Cook's emails were a way of letting everyone know, "hey!! It's me!! I'm here!! I'm on this ship too!!"
By the time they had finished masterfully crafting that day's email just after they woke up (7:00 sharp!), took a shower, and got dressed, they were ready to make their way into the kitchen and start preparing a delicious breakfast for whoever would wake up first!
Normally, it was Engineer who was up, at many times even before Cook. But today, they were nowhere to be seen on the cafeteria grounds. Of course, they knew why. Engineer was going to be fixing the lights on the ship in the vents all day—Cook always read their emails.
Next, it was rather Guard, or Captain. The both of them woke up at about the same time, but for very different reasons. Guard woke up then because they were incredibly anxious needed to monitor the ship. Captain woke up then because that's when the ship lights turned on and they can't sleep with them on.
After Captain came Scientist, who seemed to come in each morning sometime after 8; meanwhile, Doctor slept in as long as they wanted, and it differed everyday.
Of course, Cook knew all of these facts by heart. Every little detail about their crewmates, they kept stored lock and key in their mind. Some might call it stalkerish and weird—but in reality, Cook had no bad intentions. They just liked to see the silly looks on everyones' faces when they remembered the little details about them.
"How do you know that?"
"A little birdie told me."
But, to digress back. That's why it surprised them when they saw Scientist come in before any of the rest of them. They looked… antsy, like they had forgotten to take their morning medicine, or like one of their plants had drooped overnight. Immediately, Cook assumed by their darkened expression that they had suffered some sort of nightmare, or another migraine.
"Cook?…" they asked before the other could say anything, voice gentler than a dewdrop on the end of a leaf. "Can I… uh, you know. Maybe this is weird, but… can I have a hug?" Their fingers wiggled together, nudging back and forth.
"Oh!" Cook smiled. Scientist's question had only cemented their suspicions into reality. "Of course."
They opened their arms to Scientist graciously, and the brown crewmate approached, curling in on themself and letting their own hands fall limp in their grip. Their shoulders shifted slightly to get comfortable, and Cook further adjusted alongside them, squeezing them tighter.
It was great. They had no idea that Scientist trusted them so much. They told Guard that everyone would come around to all be friends at some point, and then they'd have nothing to worry about—they'd make it to their destination safe and sound, no impostors in sight, and bonded, and happy! They beamed so hard, swaying their friend side to side, that they didn't even notice the blade being unsheathed from their pocket, soon unceremoniously thrust into their waist.
Scientist didn't bother to cover their mouth—they knew they wouldn't scream. The impostor had been here long enough to be able to read them all like a book, and just as they expected, the only noise that came was a choked whimper, so small it could only be heard in the hug they quickly pulled away from. They let the serrated knife sit, purple gore oozing from the cut and slipping down the blade satisfyingly slow—before thrusting it in further so that it bottomed out and only the handle showed.
"H-Hhuh…?" Cook had their arms up at their sides now in almost a T-shape, staring down at the wound wide-visored like they hadn't done more than spill something on their shirt. "Ss..Scc… hhnnngh…"
Cook fell to the floor with a thud, twitching to twist into a ball and protecting the knife jostled inside of themself. They held the hilt in further shock, clutching their chest with their other hand, though they had to let go as their body began to shake so badly it was deepening the soaked blade.
Scientist watched this blankly. They were prepared for Guard to come strolling in after a few minutes when it hit around 9, falling right into their trap. Double checking that Cook was behind the counter so that their corpse couldn't be seen until you turned the corner, they began to stroll out of the room, checking over their clothes for any drop of blood that may have sprayed upon them. It wouldn't matter anyway—these were old ones they wore to throw out the airlock if necessary.
Until a fist met their face.
With a cry, Scientist stumbled to the ground, bony knuckles engraved into their temple and disorienting them badly. The world spun for a moment, glasses clattering to the floor to only be saved by the thick rims; meanwhile, heavy breathing sounded out from above them as Guard scrambled over them and rushed to Cook. Something had woken them up early. They should have expected as such.
Scientist quickly snatched their blurry glasses from the tile, fixing them onto their face. Oh, well. Time for Plan B.
"H-HELP!" Scientist wailed. "GUARD ATTACKED ME!"
Then, they darted out of the room to go wipe the tapes, letting the scene inside speak for itself as the carrot on a stick led the crewmates in.
---
Meanwhile, Guard shuddered over the heaving body of Cook, watching as they rolled in agony and tried to hold onto life. "Stop," Guard begged, voice a husk. "Stop moving, stay still. You're losing blood."
They had trained for this moment all of their life. And yet, seeing it in front of them, happening to their best friend, was a thousand times more difficult than what the most top-of-the-line training could have prepared them for. Desperately trying to stay calm, they tore off Cook's bloodstained shirt and folded it over, pressing it all around where the knife stayed embedded. They tried not to think about how quickly the fabric became a bright purple, how shallowly and harshly Cook was breathing, and how they still writhed in pain as they fell in and out of consciousness.
"Cook!" Captain called, though it fell on deaf ears. Guard pressed further on the wound, but more blood was gushing out, there was so much blood, all over their fingers and the floor and Cook and the rag and
"What the hell are you doing?! Get off them, at least put some gloves on!!" Doctor shoved Guard to the side, pulling a medkit from their bag and uncharacteristically ignoring the camera that fell out from the quick action.
"Can someone put that back in there?" They asked as they pulled gloves on and checked to ensure Cook could breathe from where they laid on the floor.
Nevermind.
Guard anxiously stepped back as Captain stuffed the camera back inside of Doctor's bag and they worked on examining the wound, only pulling their hand away once to turn on a mini-microphone and camera set clipped to the hem of their shirt, which definitely didn't only spike Guard's heartrate further at the implication they could have been being streamed to an audience of MIRA-knows-how-many without knowing a thing.
"Okay, so it looks like the knife went through the abdominal wall and caused a hematoma, and long time viewers of the channel might know that's a big oopsie…"
And as Doctor exercised their degree a few feet away, Captain approached Guard, taking paces like they were in a sheriff's standoff.
"I didn't do it!" Guard gritted their teeth just as their back hit the wall, their fists prepared to do whatever necessary to survive.
"Oh, yeah? Then how'd you even know Cook was injured?"
"…Because they're sitting right in front of us… and they're injured?"
Captain continued their approach, reaching for Guard's wrists. "We all heard Scientist's scream!"
"I attacked Scientist because they stabbed Cook!"
"Suspicious."
"No, it's not!"
"Well, I'm going to arrest you anyway, Impostor!" Captain exclaimed matter-of-factly, thrusting a pointer finger into the air (like an idiot) and freeing one of Guard's hands.
Guard growled, facepalming. "No! Go find Scientist! Or get Engineer to! They're on the loose and going to kill someone!"
"We just established that Scientist did not kill Cook!"
Doctor butt in for just a moment, not turning away from Cook, who was now breathing a little more slow. Guard wasn't sure if that was a good sign. "Can you guys, like, keep it down? I'm trying to do something here…?"
Guard turned back to Captain and tore their wrists away before they could get back to poorly attempting to apprehend them, rubbing where they had touched. "Listen," they panted, biting their tongue, trying to garner space between the two of them. "We can do this at the emergency meeting after. But we need to find Scientist and Engineer for it."
"Oh, right! A meeting! Great idea, impostor!—"
"—I'm not the impostor!—"
"—I'll go push the button right now!"
"What? No!" They didn't usually raise their voice like this, but the whole scene was making them antsy, alongside the fact they were acutely aware of Cook's blood still drying under their nails. "We need to wait for Cook to go to Medbay, we can't just leave them on the floor!"
"Hmm… trying to prevent an emergency meeting?"
"I SUGGESTED IT IN THE FIRST PLACE!!!"
"Captaaaaiin," Doctor whined, knocking the both of them out of their conversation while Guard sighed in relief. Sometimes they were helpful. Only sometimes. "Come help me carry Cook."
And there Guard was again. Alone in the dark with only the kitchen light left on. The blue glow of a laptop left open on the island counter faded as it went into sleep mode. Thank God they had woken up early and hadn't trusted that email. If they hesitated to come until 9 like it said, then…
Medbay… Medbay. They should get to Medbay with everyone else. Guard followed the trail of purple drips down to the Medbay door and slid it open, then closed behind them.
To their surprise, Engineer was there, too, helping pick up Cook a second time and lay them on the hospital bed (had they not… put them on the bed in the first place…?). It seems Doctor had already bandaged them before bringing them here, and was now giving them another glance over to ensure the gauze was doing its job. Guard normally hated to admit that they got hired by MIRA for a reason, but right now they were about ready to start grovelling at Doctor's knees in praise.
Of course, instead, they stood tensely by the door, watching them peel back a layer of the bandages to pluck a thin band of dying skin from the wound. After doing their job, Engineer had went to lean up against the wall, and their head rolled to the side, eyeing Guard's almost teary gaze knowingly.
"So Scientist's an impostor…" they mumbled to themself, scratching something down on a notepad. Engineer and their statistics. Guard would be much more annoyed by it if it weren't for the crewmate dying ten feet away.
"Engie, it's actually Guard," Captain explained as they trotted over, pointing at something else on the notepad a few lines down.
"I don't believe that." They didn't comment on the nickname.
"Why not?"
Engineer glanced at Guard again. They were starting to feel scrutinized under their gaze. Why did they keep looking at them like that?!
"Guard wouldn't kill Cook."
"Why not?"
They flipped the page and wrote something down, then casually showed it to Captain. Their visor turned to an 'o', and they nodded, like they were being given very intriguing information.
Guard frowned at them both.
"Let's go find Scientist," Engineer muttered, tugging on Captain's hand to drag them out of the room.
Just after, Doctor leaned back from where they sat next to the bed and yawned out some 'thanks for watching' message, before turning off the camera attatched to their scrubs with a click and immediately leaving Cook alone to go to their room and probably edit the video they were making.
"Urgh," they rolled their eyes, throwing off their gloves and adjusting their bandana. "That could've been an email."
---
A minute later, Guard leaned over the deep blue hospital bed.
Cook slept restlessly, a fog set over their closed visor. They looked… small compared to before. Maybe it was the way both their hands laid over their chest, elevating with each slow inhale; or it was the fact their usually sunny skin was pale in blood loss and recent terror. Their navy apron laid on a hook a few feet away, with their heavily ripped and stained-lavender tee doing not much to keep their modesty in check.
A droplet fell onto Cook's stomach. Then another. They kept their shoulders straight and their legs tight together, unwilling to let their shields down for even a moment, but their body clearly had other plans for letting out their stress. Why did impostors want to kill so badly? Why did they strive to get rid of anyone that Guard found close? It didn't make sense. It wasn't fair.
Their vision blurred fully to black as they laid their head against Cook. Were they overstepping a boundary?… Probably. But at this point, they were too depressed to care. If something went wrong, then… it might be the last time for Guard to be able to hold them while they're still warm.
That is to say, they never really touched that much before, considering how much Guard hated it. They were beginning to seriously regret that now. They were such an idiot, constantly being all uptight and harsh to people that they love more than anything.
Because… they realize with a start, they do. They do love Cook more than anything. The idea of them dying and not being able to spend any more time with them, of having them rot away in the storage room under a blanket for months until they could bury them out on Polus or whatever destination they'd make it to next… It was unbearable.
Movement shocked them, a lightning bolt spreading between the two lonely figures as Cook shuffled underneath them. They let out a low groan, plasticy fabric stretching beneath them as they tried to get comfortable on the hard hospital mattress. I woke them up, Guard guiltily acknowledged. They sat up, hoping they didn't notice the change of weight on their chest.
"Wha…—?…" Cook wondered aloud, visor fluttering open and closing again in exhaustion. One hand with a small IV poked into their finger trailed down towards the covered wound, clutching it. "Hhnnh…"
Guard was unsure of whether or not to say anything, until they saw the soiled bandages darken further at the movement, to which they instinctually wedged their fingers under Cook's to pull them away from the angered spot.
Cook's gaze finally properly met theirs again, a weak squint melting into a smooth, sad smile.
"Guard…" they breathed, keeping their palm over Guard's tense fist, letting it calm and splay under their touch so that they could tangle their fingers together right after. A dusting of blush heated their cheeks just as Cook laid their head back against the pillow, and a silence fell between them again, this time much more comfortable.
Had Cook not noticed them crying; being a living mess all over them? Or did they just not mind their anxious chaos? Somehow that thought only made the purple crewmate more rigid.
Another gentle tear fell on Cook's hand, and a shiver went down their spine at the small shushing noise that came from the half-awake chef, who kept their fingers knit close. A shuddering gasp fell from Guard, a waterfall beginning to collect in a pool under their visor.
"I should be c-comforting you," Guard noted.
It took a few long moments to gain a response. Cook's voice was so tiny, it could barely be heard over the regular hum of the machinery in the doctor's office. "You saved my life. You've done enough."
"No—I haven't—I need to do more while I still have you."
"Don't worry—I'm here to stay," Cook giggled.
"N-No… not that. I'm gonna get ejected," Guard grunted as another glob of salt welled up, shoving the end of their free palm into their visor to roughly rub away all of the water, heartrate rising again as they got caught completely in their own panicked world. "Captain and Doctor are sure I hurt you. I didn't. You know I didn't."
"I know." Cook's voice was soothing even in a state shattered from pain. Half-lidded, they attentively pulled the wet hand away from their face, wrapping around that one as well, thumb gliding across Guard's knuckles comfortingly. "I know you didn't."
They didn't understand. Their hands were all gross and bloody. Why would Cook want to hold them? A volcano was bubbling up in their stomach at the idea.
"Help me," Guard found themself saying, despite not wanting to. They never asked for help. They could do things themself. The motions of ugly-crying made them stutter as they gasped for breath.
"H-Hh-help me. I don't want to—hhah—die… I don't—hh—want you to—"
Guard hunched over, drooping, snotty and messy and nothing like their regular stone-faced self. When you were on the job, it was easy to push a million thoughts down and simply not cry. When you were with your dying friend, alone, in space, and incredibly overwhelmed, it was somewhat of a different story. Cook pulled their hands away and helped them lay back down, instead petting their head in long, tender strokes.
"I'm gonna tell them," Cook reassured. "You'll see. It was…"
Cook frowned deeply, starting to get emotional themself.
They thought they just wanted a hug. They thought they were finally getting somewhere… but Guard was right.
"…y'know," they finished, depression and distrust finally tugging at the corners of their lips.
…
"I don't want to eject Scientist."
"Wh—what?"
"I don't want them to die," Cook murmured, taking a deep breath. "Especially not because of me."
"But—" Guard couldn't find it in them to be shocked or argumentative, though they tried. "They tried to kill you."
"It's just in the alien's nature," Cook nodded, closing their visor again to rest their cheek on their hard pillow. "They… they needed me gone for something."
Guard sniffled.
"We'll talk about it?" Cook meekly compromised through the corner of their mouth.
"…okay."