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Jim is alive.
The thought spins around and around in Sarah’s mind as she holds her son for the first time in months. He’s a little worse for wear, his clothes have tears in them and he smells a concerning amount like smoke and fire, but he’s hugging her back. Jim is burying his face in the crook of her neck like he did when he was but a boy.
Neither of them pull away for a long time, neither of them caring that they’re standing in the middle of the port, blocking the way for other space-farers. Her son is back in her arms, and the light is back in his eyes. Like something has shifted back into being right after being wrong for so long. A purpose back in place.
When Delbert comes along she grabs him by the collar and embraces him too, taking comfort in the small, familiar little chuff he lets out as he hugs her back. The time she spent in his conservatory, idling the days away reading through his books had been a blessing, Sarah hadn’t realised how truly exhausted she was until she was allowed to just. Exist.
Her son eventually draws back just enough to start gesturing wildly, regaling her with the tales of his adventures, cutting himself off in places she is sure contains information that would have her heart threatening to beat out of her chest. She lets him get away with it for now, just happy to have him close again.
“-And then the captain-! Wait, Doc? Where’s the captain?” Jim starts looking around like he expects to spot the leader of their voyage in the crowd and Delbert chuckles softly, but Sarah can see a light strain in his shoulders, a crinkle of something that looks like worry in the corner of his eyes.
“I brought the good captain to the nearest hospital, my boy, so that she may be tended to by an actual physician.” He explains in the gentle tone she’s always known of him, but Jim frowns.
“You think she’s up for visitors?” He asks, looking between herself and Delbert. “Mom should meet her.”
“If she’s injured it’s more important for her to recover than it is for her to be introduced to strangers. No matter how grateful said stranger is for her part in bringing you home safe.” She cuts in quickly, not wanting to disturb the woman who her son conveniently forgot to mention is injured.
“But mom-!” She gives him a look, and he immediately retreats to a better vantage point: “Doc, tell her!”
Delbert looks distinctly uncomfortable with being roped into the conversation but she sees the way he braces himself before speaking and narrows her eyes. “The captain is quite the individual,” he braves, “if she does not want us there, she’ll tell us, no doubt. I don’t see merely asking doing us any harm.”
Jim grins and turns back to her. “She also owes me a letter of recommendation,” he glances at Delbert, “and I don’t think you got a way to contact her while you were taking her to the hospital.”
The doctor grimaces and looks to Sarah with an apologetic smile, and so Sarah finds herself curious about a stranger and being dragged through the streets by her son.
The hospital in Crescentia is strangely empty when they arrive, but even so Sarah finds herself feeling out of place in the pure white environment. The receptionist recognises Delbert and makes their trip far smoother than it probably should have been given their lack of relation to the captain.
A zirrelian in a white coat comes out and guides them through sterile halls, Aridam, his name is. His voice is low and calm as he tells them the captain should be fine with some rest, but that he cannot disclose her injures to them. Jim tries to pester the doctor about it until Sarah squeezes his shoulder in warning.
He pouts all the way to a closed door that Aridam pauses in front of. Once he sees that they’re all gathered, he knocks.
A posh accent calls out ‘enter’ from within before Aridam even manages to connect his tentacle with the wood. That doesn’t stop him from making three distinct taps and then going inside. Sarah can faintly hear ‘feeling?’ and ‘visitors’ through the door before it opens once more.
“She’ll see you,” he says and she feels the way both Delbert and Jim brighten, “but I insist on making the visit short. She requires adequate rest.”
Then he leaves with a nod to them all, and they cross the threshold.
In the room a felinid is laying on a cot by a window with one arm in a sling, but her eyes are alert and her ears swivel to them all when the door is pushed open. Her fur is a short, pleasantly peachy colour, and she’s wearing a tight white turtle-neck that clings to her defined torso. Though even with the length the shirt goes up her neck, there are still some bandages that sneak even further up. Her legs are hidden under a blanket, but Sarah can just make out the waistband of grey pants. A long blue coat is hung over one of the chairs by the side of the bed, fully erasing all doubt as to who this is.
Sarah takes her in and absentmindedly notes the way the captain’s pupils dilate and flicker between them when they all enter.
Jim doesn’t hesitate for a second before pushing himself closer, much to Sarah’s exasperation. “Hey, Captain! How’re you holding up?”
“Ah, Mister Hawkins and Dr. Doppler, miss me already?” While her words are teasing, her voice carries a confidence that Sarah can’t deny. “You can hardly be blamed, but I assure you; your presence is not required. A proper doctor has taken a look at me — no offence intended, Dr. Doppler — and all I need is some time to, ah, ‘lick my wounds’ as it were. Certainly nothing I haven’t dealt with before.”
It’s smooth reassurance that’s done without a thought, but Sarah is struck tongue tied and into stillness within the grooves of the floor when an inquiring look is directed at her. She gets the encompassing feeling that she’s being seen through, that the patient on the cot is dissecting her and putting her back together again in the same strained breath. This person is not only capable and intelligent, but she is someone that Sarah wants to know. If she could remember how to form words, she’d introduce herself.
Luckily, her son is both fearless and lacks any kind of apprehension, and he follows the captain’s eyes with a grin.
“This is my mother Sarah, ma’am,” Jim gently takes her by the elbow and guides her closer to the injured woman. Sarah doesn’t protest or hesitate, even under a stunningly emerald gaze. “Mom, this is our captain.”
Both women eye Jim for a second, waiting, but it’s the captain that speaks first after a moment. “Well, miss Hawkings, as your son so expertly elaborated; Captain Amelia Smollet, at your service.” It’s a slow drawl, but amusement shines through her tone.
“Jim has been telling me all about you on the way here.” Sarah finally finds her voice again and holds out a hand. Captain Amelia’s right arm is still free, and her grip is firm and her palm is warm. “It’s a pleasure.”
A pleased smile graces the captain’s lips then, a hint of fang showing. “Oh, the pleasure is all mine. Forgive me, madam, I’m usually far more polite-” Delbert makes a protesting noise that the captain skilfully ignores, “-but I’m afraid doctor Aridam might finish the job in the wake of those pirates’ failures if I were to leave this bed.”
Sarah is already shaking her head before the woman finishes speaking. “Please, don’t get up on my account. Jim-”
“-Wants that recommendation you promised.” Her son butts in, to Sarah’s horror.
“James Hawkins!”
But the captain scoffs lightly under her breath, stopping the lecture she was about to bestow upon her son before it can leave her lips. “It’s quite alright, miss Hawkins, the youth are rarely patient.” She says with a light eye-roll.
Her hand slips out of Sarah’s, her claws gently skimming the back of her palm in the retreat, and the captain goes to grab a sealed envelope on the windowsill that they all managed to miss somehow.
Sarah hears Delbert’s noise of astonishment beside her and she herself raises an eyebrow in mild surprise.
“This should do you well. I-”
“Holy smokes, cap’n!” Jim interrupts her and Sarah stifles a sigh, “Doc couldn’t have been gone for more than twenty minutes before we had him dragging us back here. How’d you have time to write this while getting checked?”
Jim moves forward and tries to grab the letter, but the captain retracts it out of his reach and levels him with a truly unimpressed look.
“Months on the same vessel and you’ve yet to note my dislike for time-wasting,” she narrows her eyes slightly and Sarah watches with amusement as Jim straightens up, “or interruptions,” she adds in faux annoyance and Jim gives her a sheepish smile, so reminiscent of when he was younger that Sarah almost starts choking up.
“As I was saying,” Amelia continues, unruffled, “I mentioned some of our journey as well as your inestimable contributions to the voyage. If this doesn’t get you in, then the academy has gone as thick as two short planks and you’d be better off without them.”
“Captain Amelia, I truly don’t know what to say, I-” Sarah starts but the captain merely waves a hand at her; not dismissive of her gratitude, but obviously seeing it as unnecessary.
“None of that, madam. Mister Hawkins was integral in the journey. Had we not had his impressive improvisational abilities and quick-thinking mind, we would not have made it out.”
Her eyes shift from Sarah’s to her son’s, and Sarah finds herself short of breath at the softness that enters her tone. Without even a hint of the previous teasing—which Sarah suspects is simply part of her natural cadence—Amelia holds out the letter once more.
“Every word within this is the truth; all of the praise more than earned, mister Hawkins.” Her gaze finds Sarah’s, a fanged smile tugging at her lips, “You should be proud.”
She finds herself smiling back, true and relived and grateful, all at once.
“I am.”
The next time Sarah sees the captain is almost six months later. Jim had been accepted into the academy with flying colours, both his skills and intelligence speaking for him, but also Captain Amelia's words holding a surprising amount of weight.
It’s the height of summer on the academy grounds, a brief, week-long break allowing for visitors to come and see their enrolled loved ones. Jim has spent the entire day regaling her with tales of all that he’s been up to, and Sarah has spent the entire time trying not to cry at seeing the spark so firmly back in his eyes.
Now dark is beginning to settle over port Ivy, Jim having gone back to his dorm while Sarah trudges towards the guest accommodations at a leisurely pace. She passes some young people in uniforms going their own ways as she walks, most wearing happy smiles and easy-going expressions. The mother can relate; it’s nice to know where her son is and that he’s faring well.
It’s not as nice to realise that she’s somehow gotten herself completely lost.
How that happened doesn’t matter much, in the end the results are the same: no longer does any of the signs point towards the visitor dorms, and Sarah finds herself scrambling to right her path in the waning sunlight.
Normally she would ask the nearest person for help; Sarah isn’t exactly shy, and this is certainly a situation that calls for some assistance. Problem is that the crowd has thinned while she’s been lost in thought, the only people she can see now are all clad in uniforms, hurrying one way or another. Not exactly people Sarah feels likes she should bother.
At least until she spots the familiar lithe form and peachy fur of a certain felinid captain, standing a few yards away and speaking with a faculty member of the academy.
Before she can wonder whether or not she should walk up and ask for directions when they’re clearly in the middle of a conversation, viridian eyes snap towards her, pinning her to the spot. Sarah blinks and swallows as she is stared down.
It lasts for only a moment truly, but her bones turn heavy under the scrutinising gaze, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. Then the captain gives her a fanged grin and gestures her over, and the pressure that had been building around her ribcage dissipates like mist under the morning sun.
“Ms. Hawkins, what a wonderful surprise!” She says when Sarah draws near, her accent looping pleasantly in her ears. “What are you doing wandering the ground at this hour?”
“I’m really sorry to interrupt, but i seem to have gotten myself turned around.” She smiles sheepishly at the two.
The other officer is an older canid, a lot older than Delbert, with grey fur and a wrinkly face. He looks her up and down, not unkindly, more like he’s taking note of who she is. She has a feeling he would remember her even if ten years was the next time he saw her.
“I’ve been saying for years that you lot need more signs,” the captain drawls to her companion, a small smirk tugging on her lips.
“So you have,” her friend grumbles without any actual bite. “Here, Ms. Hawkins, I’ll take you to-”
“Oh, come off it, Conas.” The captain interrupts and slaps him gently on the shoulder. “You said you had paperwork to take care of, no? I’ll make sure Ms. Hawkins arrives safe and sound at the guest accommodations.”
“Captain Amelia-”
“Conas, truly. As long as you lot haven’t changed the location I doubt I’ll get myself lost as well.”
Sarah feels awkward as the two friends size each other up for a second, before the older gentleman relents with a sigh, waving an exasperated hand in the air before giving Sarah a nod and meandering off.
Then it’s only Sarah and the captain, who stares after the canid as he walks off.
“He means well,” she says softly after a moment, “but he was my teacher when I went to the academy, so he still remembers me as a reckless cadet.”
Sarah hums gently in response, watching the felinid with quiet focus, enraptured by the way the late night catches in her irises.
“Well,” suddenly those eyes are staring directly at her and no longer watching the elder faculty members retreat, “the guest quarters are this way.”
“Hm? Oh, yes!” She startles as she’s brought back into the moment. “Thank you, Captain.”
The captain gives her a funny look. “Tell me, Ms. Hawkins: are you in the navy?”
“What?” Sarah asks, but the captain only smiles, sharp with humour.
“Humour me.”
“No,” She answers hesitantly, “I’m not.”
“Hm,” Amelia nods almost to herself, a thoughtful expression encompassing her, “I thought that to be the case. Are we perhaps on a ship right now, and are you part of my crew on it?
Sarah narrows her eyes, a faint trickle of amusement lighting up in her stomach. “No and no.”
“Then please,” the captain says and turns towards her, eyes suddenly gentle and tone soft, “it’s just ‘Amelia’ to you.”
Her heart stumbles over itself in her chest, her tongue tying itself into a useless knot in her mouth. In the dwindling light Sarah finds herself hoping Amelia’s night-vision isn’t good enough to see the heat crawling up her neck.
“Well, then it’s only fair you call me Sarah.” She counters after a beat too long, and Amelia smiles, a fang poking out from between her lips.
“Of course Ms. Hawkins,” the captain responds, the smile turning wicked and Sara rolls her eyes. “Shall we?”
Without waiting for her answer, Amelia takes a step only to stumble into Sarah with a curse, one of her legs giving out from under her.
If worry hadn’t bloomed quickly in Sarah’s chest, she might’ve laughed just a bit at the captains expense. “Are you okay?” She asks instead. For some truly strange reasons, she finds herself thinking that this is probably the reason that Conas had protested against Amelia acting as her guide.
“Yes, I believe only my ego is bruised, thank you.” The captain says with a click of her tongue. Sarah eyes her dubiously and Amelia rolls her eyes at her. “Oh please, this is nothing that will slow me down.”
It should probably be grating, the downright cocky confidence the captain radiates even after nearly eating concrete, but Sarah finds it strangely endearing. From all that Delbert and Jim has told her, it’s not like it’s completely unfounded.
She doesn’t stumble again, even if her gait is concerningly uneven to Sarah’s untrained eyes. Instead she regales her with tales of the stars, scary and mild, exciting and boring. Sarah contributes with her own tales of eccentric costumers she’s served, and while she finds her stories lacking in comparison to Amelia’s adventures, the felinid listens with an amused twinkle in her sharp eyes, so Sarah continues.
It’s almost disappointing to see the guest quarters coming into view as they talk, but as the saying goes, all good things must come to an end.
“Well, this is you.” The captain says lightly when they arrive.
“Thank you, really.” Sarah says with a smile, “Stop by any time you’d like, I owe you a meal.”
“For showing you the way? That truly isn’t necessary.” Amelia waves her off with a light chuckle.
“Sure, but for keeping my son alive and giving him this opportunity?” She holds her arm out in a wide gesture of the academy ground. “It isn’t nearly enough.”
“Mister Hawkins is a truly talented young man,” the captain counters easily, “I only turned their eye, nothing more. Everything else has been his own merits. His survival included. He saved my life just as much — if note more — than I saved his.”
“Still,” she insists, “Thank you, Amelia.”
The captain blinks once, twice, before her shoulders sag and and Sarah realises she’s won.
“You’re welcome, Sarah.”
She doesn’t question why her name sounds so nice coming from Amelia.
With the gems Jim brought back, they didn’t need to stay with Delbert while the Ben-bow Inn was being rebuilt, no matter how much her friend had insisted they were more than welcome for as long as they needed it.
Sarah had not been keen on abusing her friends hospitality, however, and she craved a place for herself and Jim as much as she craved something to do. So they got themselves a place for the meantime. It’s not lavish or extravagant; a single-story home with room for Jim and room for herself, and a nice little patio that faces the morning sun. A town a few minutes walk away, with kind neighbours that don’t pry as much as they simply engage in some harmless gossip.
When they’d moved in, both Amelia and Delbert helped with the assembling of furniture and the decorations. Small jokes had filtered through the new home with the ease of a flowing river, bonds that Sarah now has had the privilege of witnessing grow after they were created through strife.
It’s not uncommon, now that they’re settled, for the captain to come visit once in a while. Jim gets stars in his eyes whenever she comes along and he’s on break from the academy, and Sarah likes to think they became friends—even if they didn’t say as much—back at that second meeting. She’s always a welcome surprise.
She’s even claimed one of the chairs on the patio as her own; the left one, the one that gets the most sun. If Sarah isn’t home for whatever reason when she stops by, then she’s sure to find the felinid sipping some tea right there as she patiently waits for her return. One of the arms of the chair has faint marks in it from where the captain tends to drum her fingers, the claws she rarely sheathes leaving the indents in the wood.
Sarah has a sneaking suspicion that Amelia is actually unaware of the habit, and woe be it for Sarah to point it out. She likes knowing even the unflappable Captain Amelia Smolett has her own quirks. She also likes tracing the marks when Jim is away and Delbert is caught up in his own studies. It helps remind her that she’s not as alone as she might think in the moment.
So Amelia comes and goes—as is her nature, her voyages taking her away for months on end, only to come back with stories of places Sarah and Jim have only heard tales of, places Delbert gallantly tries to keep the dangers of from her.
Sarah is no longer surprised when she comes back from her errands to find her friend sitting in her usual spot, it actually tends to be a highlight in her week. What does surprise her is finding Amelia leaning on the railing instead of seated at the table.
Her human eyesight might not match that of the captain’s, but she can still see her outline from the small distance she has left to her home; can see the droop of her shoulders and the unquestionable fatigue in her frame. It makes her speed up her steps, the previously heavy basket in her hand nothing more than a paper weight as gravel crunches under her feet.
It’s concerning to say the least when the captain only perks up when Sarah is barely a few paces away, close enough to see that Amelia’s eyes were closed up until a few moments ago.
“Greetings, miss Hawkins,” and there’s something wrong in her voice, Sarah can tell in an instant. It still holds that familiar cockiness, but it almost feels put upon as it curls into Sarah’s ears; like Amelia is trying too hard, something she has never seen or heard the captain do before. She has always been keenly aware of her own abilities and her own worth, something Sarah admires greatly.
“Captain Amelia, a pleasure as always,” she finally gathers her wits to respond, and even if she can’t fully hide how it comes out hesitant, she still manages to hold on to the faux politeness they both find so amusing. “Are you alright?”
Sarah knows the instant the words leave her lips that she won’t receive a truthful answer. Not with the way Amelia’s pupils dilate slightly—her body betraying her and perceiving a threat that isn’t there—and not with the way a grin tugs on the felinid’s lips. Only on one side. The side with the beauty mark.
Sarah tries not to stare, an uncommonly easy task at the moment given how worry gnaws at the tissue lining her stomach.
“I’m quite alright, my dear,” the captain says, her words, usually like velvet, now feeling like acid as Sarah listens to the lies. A patch of something red peeks out from—but is mostly hidden by—the collar of her blue coat, and clawed hands rest heavily against the railing instead of tapping mindless rhythms. “A run in with a motley crew of miscreants, nothing too far out of the ordinary.”
The basket makes a dull noise as Sarah puts it down on the table, a few bottles clinking inside as she frowns at the captain. Her fingers twitch at her sides in an ache to reach out, to help Amelia out of her clothes and out of her duties so Sarah can try and soothe whatever ails her. Still, she refrains and settles by her side instead.
“Why are you here then?” A grimace paints the woman’s face in an instant at her own words. “I apologise, that came out wrong. I’m always happy to have you, Amelia, just- why? Why are you here instead of on your ship or in a medical hut somewhere?”
At least her friend seems to take amusement from how her foot fits inside her mouth, eyes alight with a bit more life as she watches Sarah.
“We are on our way back from our expedition. Just one last supply run until we brave the rest of the journey home,” the captain reveals after a few moments of letting Sarah stew in her embarrassment. “This was the closest town that would have what we sought, so this is where we went.” She looks back out over the path in front of the home, Sarah watching as her eyes flicker about, almost as if searching for unnoticed dangers, before she continues quietly. “I figured it’d be terribly rude of me to come here and then leave without so much as a ‘hello’.”
Sarah snorts and runs a tired hand through her hair, intensely aware of a viridian gaze watching her movements. “And I appreciate that, don’t get me wrong, but shouldn’t you stick with your crew under working hours.”
Shouldn’t you be resting?
Amelia seems to hear the unspoken just as acutely as she hears what Sarah actually says, ears flicking in her direction and whiskers twitching ever so slightly with the curl of her lip. Sarah attempted to make it sound teasing, to grill her a bit in hopes that she sticks closer to the people who can actually help her at the moment.
The captain just sniffs a bit. “A capable lot they are; I trust them to get what we require without me holding their hands through the process.” She straightens from where she’s leaning, Sarah catching sight of an arcurian some ways down the path.
Amelia doesn’t wince as she moves, and Sarah isn’t expecting her to. Instead she looks for the other signs, marking them like constellations in her mind as they appear. A tightening of her jaw, the way her fingers flex and her shoulders draw back. There is pain there, and there is pain in Sarah, knowing there is nothing she can do to alleviate Amelia’s.
“That’s Yaro, lovely fellow, but I do believe he’s here to retrieve me,” she says, her cadence turning business-like in a way that Sarah despises. “I’ll get out of your hair.”
With that, she gives Sarah a nod and a private smile — small and barely touching the corners of her eyes, but more real than the entire conversation they just had — and goes on her way. Sarah absentmindedly notes the way she folds her hands behind her back as she moves; slowly, but not with deliberate confidence like she usually does. Instead it’s careful, knowing anything else would most likely carry painful consequences.
Sarah’s frown turns even more severe as she’s forced to turn her back and go inside, lest her groceries turn bad in the sun.
It’s raining when Jim graduates, not that it matters much; the people in the audience are all cheering for each person who receive their honours, and the people accepting are all smiling brightly.
Sarah can’t feel her cheeks, her grin stretches so wide and has been for so long that it’s practically etched into her face now. Delbert is beside her, already crying even though Jim’s turn hasn’t come yet. She can see him in the line, his head swivelling around him, speaking to friends ahead and behind, or looking up to where they’re seated and waving enthusiastically.
She’s so, so proud of him, and she thinks this is one of the happiest days of her life even as Delbert blows his nose loudly to her left.
But the seat on her right remains damningly empty.
The captain- admiral, she mentally corrects herself, had been the first person to receive Jim’s invite, even before Sarah herself. All on the ground of the felinid being one of the supervisors of their final exams. The admiral had been the one to deliver the rest of the invitations as well, smugly presenting Delbert with his and earning herself a petulant remark about having dug her claws in too deeply into Jim. Something Sarah had smacked him lightly for and Amelia had flashed her fangs in a wicked smirk.
She had also assured them all numerous times that she’d be present, that the voyage she was taking a few months before the celebration would end a week before the event at the latest.
Yet Sarah feels her absence as heavily as ever.
She isn't unfamiliar with Amelia’s missions crossing over the estimated time-frames. With her new rank she’s been getting sent out further and further, to more and more dangerous places. Routine journeys or not, the territory they pass through are home to some of the threats she knows she’s told Jim about to get him to eat his vegetables in his youth.
It has caused postponements in some of their meetups before, sometimes even pushing them back weeks. It always leaves Sarah disappointed when it happens, even when she knows the admiral isn’t to blame; letters or other correspondences always arriving before the date they’ve set to warn her of the delay. She tends to find herself in a scratched wooden chair those times, tracing groves made by claws.
The problem is that this tardiness has never extended to anything important before.
A dinner with Sarah and Delbert, sure. Jim’s birthday? She showed up with the ends of her coat a bit singed and still smelling faintly of blaster smoke, but she had been there. She’d also expertly dodged any and all questions regarding the state she was in, but Sarah’s long since learned—much to her displeasure—that that is standard with the admiral.
So now her absence stings, and Sarah hopes that Jim can’t make out the empty chair from down below.
“Have you heard anything from her?” Finally, she can’t resist asking any longer, her grin still in place as she turns to Delbert.
“Ah, no. No I have not,” the canid looks both miffed and annoyed, a grimace threatening to break out on his face.
Sarah suppresses a wince, casting her gaze around once more, hoping to spot familiar, peachy fu without any luck.
She knows that she can’t expect the admiral to take months worth of time off just to make sure she makes it, and she knows that a voyage going beyond its expected time-frame isn’t Amelia’s fault, but that doesn’t dull the disappointment and anger growing teeth in her gut, sharp and violent.
There are only a few people ahead of Jim now, and even from up here she can see his nerves. He probably hasn’t noticed Amelia’s absence, but officially graduating must still be making her son jittery; he shifts his weight and shakes out his hands more often than Sarah can keep track of.
Then, as the last person before Jim is called up, the sound of running reaches Sarah’s ears. It’s not light and nearly soundless as she’s grown so used to, it’s harsh, heavy and enough to turn a few heads and would have turned Sarah’s too if she hadn’t been so focused on the proceedings down below, on trying not to cry in pride.
So she jumps nearly a foot in the air when the admiral launches into the seat beside her.
“Am I late? Did I miss him?” She has Sarah by the shoulder in an instant, her voice still that low, posh thing, but now uncharacteristically frantic, her pupils slightly blown in what looks like stress.
Sarah wants to chide her, wants to be snappish and annoyed. She had very nearly missed it, was so close to missing it.
But as she looks the admiral over, the words die in her throat.
Amelia is missing her hat and her signature coat, but is still in her white turtle-neck — the garment wrinkled and untucked from her pants. Her hair is a mess, her gloves are gone and instead of her usual thigh-high heels she wears boots with one of the laces still undone.
If Sarah decided to have a guess at what the hell Amelia just came running from, she’d have guessed the other side of the damn planet with how dishevelled she is. Compared to her usual neat appearance — not a single hair astray — this is nothing short of unravelled.
“You are late, but you didn’t miss him.” Delbert speaks up, saving Sarah the herculean task. He, too, is looking over Amelia with a critical eye, the worry Sarah feels is mirrored in his gaze.
The way her shoulders slump in relief and exhaustion in equal measure does nothing to soothe that worry either. Her breathing is heavy and ragged, drawn through clenched teeth and an obviously dry throat.
“Good, that’s- that’s good.” In all her time knowing Amelia, Sarah can count on one hand the amount of times she’s heard her stutter and still have fingers over. And never once has it been accompanied by the admiral slurring her words.
“Amelia what in the stars happened to you?” Sarah finally finds her voice, doing her best to keep the fear out of it.
“Hm? Oh tish tosh, this is nothing but a scratch.”
Her eyes are slightly pinched at the corners, her smile genuine but strained.
Sarah is about to call her out on in, only to be interrupted by the speakers calling out her sons name, Jim stepping up on the podium and accepting his honours. Sarah starts crying, Delbert starts crying and cheering, and for another moment the state the admiral arrived in is all but forgotten.
The ceremony lasts for another hour as all the cadets are called up, and then it’s like watching ants scatter from a drop of ink as all the newly appointed officers scatter into the crowd, running for their loved ones.
Jim arrives at a sprint, his white uniform firmly in place and a grin splitting his face in half. His hair is flying this way and that from his running but the shine in his eyes is unmistakable and Sarah tears up all over again.
“Mom,” he chokes out, “I did it, mom.”
“Oh, Jim.” Before she can continue her son is in her arms, his face buried in her neck and shoulders shaking as he holds her tight. “I knew you could.” She whispers firmly into his hair. “I knew you would. I am so proud of you, Jim.”
“Yes I think your mother speaks for us all when she says- oh goodness me.” Delbert stutters as he, too, is enveloped in a crushing embrace, Jim detaching himself from her only to latch on to the doctor's ribcage with a gusto that makes Sarah let out a wet laugh. “My dear boy, we are all so very proud of you.” He finishes with his hands on Jim’s shoulders.
There is only one person left that has been left un-hugged. When Jim turns from Delbert Amelia takes his forearm and he grins brilliantly.
Her son is taller than the admiral now, but only just. It seems he’s mostly inherited his mother’s height.
“Well done,” Amelia smiles warmly at Jim and Sarah fails to tear her eyes away, “officer Hawkings.”
Jim can’t contain himself anymore, and he surges forward and envelopes the admiral in a hug, nearly knocking her right off her feet.
Sarah’s blood freezes in her veins when he does.
His grip is tight and his face is buried in her shoulder as well, Amelia returning the hug not a second after he latches on, but that isn’t what makes Sarah’s heart drop into the pit of her stomach.
No, what has concern threatening to choke her is the pain that etches itself into Amelia’s face when Jim embraces her. Her lips pull back over her teeth, her ears fold flat against her skull and her pupils narrow into slits. Not a single sound slips out, and the expression is gone as quickly as it forms, but Sarah is behind Jim. She gets a clear view of it long before Amelia manages to hide it.
“Thank you,” she barely hears her son voice, “I don’t know what I’d have done without-”
“None of that, Officer Hawkins.” Amelia responds before he can finish, but Sarah can’t get the image out of her mind. “This is your accomplishment. I had little to do with your brilliance.”
Sarah watches in light detachment as Amelia expertly distracts Jim with wide gestures, carefully manoeuvring his attention away from herself and back to Sarah and Delbert. Like it’s easy, like it’s something she’s used to doing.
Then, sharp as an arrow, her head snaps to the side, eyes searching. It is sudden enough to draw back Jim and Delbert's eyes, and Sarah can see the canid’s ears twitching in sync with Amelia’s, trying to fiure out what she’s so focused on.
A moment later a large bugardian comes ambling through the crowds, awkwardly trying to pass through the throes of people without bumping into them, an effort of futility from the looks of it. Really, he doesn’t look that out of place, maybe like he’s late and trying to find his family or friends.
But Amelia shifts into a more controlled stance as he makes his way towards them, a mask of neutrality passing over her face that has Jim squaring his shoulders and Delbert frowning. Old habits, Sarah would guess, but doesn’t comment.
“Admiral, you need to-”
“Doctor, Officer and Madame, may I introduce Vythys, the medic of my latest voyage!” Amelia cuts in with false cheer, stepping forward and welcomes him.
“Yes, hello- and congratulations!” He hastily adds at Amelia’s glare and Sarah would laugh if the hair at the back of her neck wasn’t standing on end.
“Vythys here really saved our backsides a few times,” she says with a laugh that Sarah determines quickly is completely fake. “Right, Doctor?”
“Yes,” the poor doctor looks both flustered and frustrated, a state that Sarah can relate emphatically to when in Amelia’s presence, “but please, Admiral Smollet, it is imperative that you-”
“I’m occupied.” The interruption comes out like a low hiss, startling in how quickly it turns sharp. A tone that Sarah is sure she hasn’t heard from the admiral before.
“Woah, cap’n!” Jim steps forward even as Vythys recoils at the title that her son had never really let go of. Sarah is pretty sure both him and Amelia find the title funny at this point. And maybe also a bit nostalgic. “If you need to go you need to go, I get that, trust me!”
“Jim-”
It isn’t often that Amelia uses his first name, but even so her son still doesn’t let her finish the sentence.
“It’s okay,” he assures, and Sarah can tell that he isn’t lying, “You’ll join us again later, right?”
Amelia purses her lips, conflict clear in her viridian eyes as she looks between them and her medic. Then she nods, a silent ‘very well’ passing into the air as she follows Vythys. Sarah watches her leave until she disappears completely in the crowd.
She does end up joining them again later, a gift in the form of a sailor’s hat in her hands. Sarah notices that she moves easier when she comes back.
She also notices that her pupils stay dilated until they all turn in for the night, but Amelia says nothing of it when Sarah asks if she’s alright.
The admiral just smiles.
They celebrate Jim’s first successful voyage as an official officer at the Ben-bow inn, because of course they do.
Her boy is all grown up, heading out into the world for adventure and with a heap of new experiences under his belt. His friends from the academy are all there, sharing stories and laughing with her son about jokes she has no context for, dancing and having a riot that reminds her of the best parts of being young. The music is loud and the atmosphere is lively, Delbert and Amelia also there to celebrate with them all. She even spots the Doctor subtly wiping his eyes a few times, and Sarah really can’t blame him.
The celebration lasts long into the night, with drinks and food being served in the masses, Sarah letting her employees do the work while she, for once, takes a moment to simply enjoy herself and bask in how far Jim has come.
Around the witching hour it starts to die down a bit. Jim and his friends stumbling their way out the door to go to Jim’s room back at their house, and Sarah is more than happy to let them make the mistake of trying to navigate their way there in their current state, and learn their lesson about responsible drinking that way. This planet of theirs is a very safe one, at worst they’ll simply be waking up in a berry bush with some unfortunate stains on their outfits.
Delbert helps a fair bit with the clean-up before he bids his adieu with a kiss to her cheek, sharing a private and oh so proud smile with her as he puts his coat on.
It’s only when he leaves that she realises she hasn’t seen Amelia since before Jim and his friends left. She hadn't even seen her friend leave. It isn’t unlike Amelia to duck out for a moment at an event like this, both her and Delbert often cite their more sensitive hearing for being the reason they’d need a moment alone every once in a while, but the amount of time she’s been gone has Sarah slightly worried.
Even if something urgent had come up, the admiral wouldn’t have left without so much as a goodbye.
So Sarah goes looking for her. Around the dining area, the kitchen, the basement; the upstairs dining area, in the loft, by the fireplace. Nothing.
Eventually her search leads her outside, where she finds the admiral leaning against the railing on the second story balcony, a sailor’s hat clutched in her hands and eyes tracing the stars above. It takes Sarah a moment to find her way back inside and get to the balcony, a moment she hurries as much as she possibly can, quietly afraid Amelia might just disappear if she takes too long.
The hat is almost identical to the one Amelia usually wears, apart from the fact that this one is larger and darker. Where Amelia’s is a dark navy, this one is black and clearly made for a larger head than the felinid’s.
“His name was Arrow.”
Amelia doesn't turn around, but her shoulders slump ever so slightly when Sarah joins her side. The admiral’s gaze turns to the hat, tracing the lining with gentle claws; her eyes distant and less guarded than Sarah has ever seen them, the moon reflecting in a way that almost makes them glow.
“He was killed on our voyage to Treasure planet. One of the pirates cut his life-line while we were in the clutches of a black hole.” Finally she looks at her, if only to give her a wry look as if she’s just remembered something. “Ah, if you weren't supposed to know that part of the journey, then I was not the one to tell you.”
Jim had already told her years ago. Well, more like he accidentally slipped up during one of his excited rambles, but she digresses. Sarah smiles, an almost secret thing, and hums. “My lips are sealed.”
The admiral nods and looks back to the stars, Sarah following her example.
It’s a clear night, the stars above shining through with countless constellations fighting for her attention. The wind is cool but not cold, gently rustling the trees and loosening a few rocks below them, a constant reminder of their place in the rest of the world.
“We graduated together.” Amelia says after a moment, her voice nearly a whisper. Sarah only hears it because she’s standing close enough for their shoulders to be brushing. “When I left the navy for a stunt, he came with me. The one person who I could always count on being right there by my side.”
“You still miss him.” It’s obvious really, but Sarah can’t help but voice it, to give words to what Amelia is saying without actually saying it.
“I suppose I do.” She offers with a wet chuckle. “He was the best spacer I’ve ever known.”
Amelia puts the hat on and Sarah was right; it’s way too big. It slides down over her eyes for a moment before the admiral tilts her head back, letting it fall backwards until it practically envelopes the back of her skull, holding on to dear life to her forehead.
Sarah doesn’t laugh, doesn’t really feel the urge for it at all, but Amelia smiles and stays like that for a moment, just looking up at the stars.
“I understand.” Sarah tells her, because she does, and Amelia isn’t pulling away for once, brushing her off to go lick her wounds by herself. No, today she stands there and tells Sarah of what ails her, she leans on her and Sarah will be damned before she squanders it. “I thought Jim’s father was the love of my life.”
Sarah can see Amelia frown out of the corner of her eye as she takes the hat back off and places it on the table, turning to her. Not annoyed or angry. Confused maybe, but still listening.
“It’s not exactly the same, but I lost him the moment he decided to leave.” Sarah tells her. “In some ways I still love him. He gave me Jim, and for that alone I can’t bring myself to hate him. But since I still love him I still grieve him. I still miss him.”
Amelia looks at her with a furrow to her brows, the kind that tells Sarah she’s thinking, that she’s weighing her words.
Then her face relaxes, her gaze softens. “I suppose you can understand the anger as well then.”
“From being left behind?” Sarah lets out a rueful chuckle and turns her body towards the admiral. “Yeah, I do.”
The admiral’s lips tug into a crooked smile, the side with her beauty mark tugging up the most. “Arrow may not have been a craven scoundrel like your former — I loathe to call the creature a man, but it seems I must,” Sarah snorts at the derision in Amelia’s tone, glad to see her snide attitude returning, “but it is… comforting to know you sympathise.”
“I’ve wanted you to know that for years now.” She shakes her head in exasperation.
The felinid tilts her head a bit. “About your ex-husband?”
“No, you silly spacer.” If Sarah didn’t know better she’d have taken the pure offence on the admiral’s face to be genuine. “I’ve wanted you to know that I care. That I’m someone that you can come to when you’re hurt.”
Amelia’s lips part in stunned silence, but Sarah presses on before she can interrupt.
“It’s been killing me, Amelia.” Her voice is barely a breathless plea, a quiet admission to something that shouldn’t make her feel so guilty. “You think you hide it well and you don’t. You come back hurt and any attempt I make to help you brush off or pretend not to notice or understand.”
Sarah gently grabs her hand between her own.
“Let me in. Please.” She begs. “Let me care.”
For a moment there is nothing but silence between them. Silence and the heaviness of their words, of the words left unspoken. Then the hand between her own closes tenderly, the light scratch of claws against the back of her palm bringing her back to a hospital room years ago.
“I’m not quite… used to being cared about.” Amelia grimaces a bit and Sarah aches. “Even with Arrow, I preferred to tend to myself. It was easier for if we got separated or if we were assigned different voyages.”
Sarah nods and swallows. “Let me try anyway?”
Slitted pupils constrict ever so slightly from their perfect roundness, and Amelia swallows audibly. “Okay.”
Then she leans in, and Sarah meets her halfway.
The kiss isn’t explosive, isn’t planet-shattering. It’s languid, soft in a way that Sarah isn’t expecting but is still unsurprised by. She’s thought about it before, kissing Amelia. Most of the time she comes to the conclusion that the admiral would kiss like she spoke: with confidence and attitude.
She’s only half right; there is no hesitation in the way Amelia parts her lips to deepen the kiss, only the faint trace of alcohol still clinging to her tongue. But there is no bid for control, no teasing bite — though Sarah wouldn’t mind the latter.
There is simply a need for closeness; hands on her jaw, sharp claws against her cheeks and neck that are so careful that she fears not for a second that they might break skin.
Sarah wants to ask her to stay. She wants to be selfish, to dig her nails in and keep the admiral close to her chest. She knows, somewhere deep in her bones, that Amelia would agree.
She also knows that it would make Amelia absolutely miserable.
“Don’t leave forever.” She asks instead when they part. Because Sarah is selfish, but she knows that if she wants to keep Amelia, she’ll have to share her with the galaxy.
As much as Sarah is bound to her planet, unwilling to tear away her roots, Amelia is bound to the universe, unwilling to chain herself down to one spot when the cosmos itself calls her name.
Green eyes twinkle in the moonlight, a breath soft as a whisper tickles her lips, and she feels a steady purr from the body pressed to her own.
“How could I ever, when the stars themselves guide me back to you?”