[sylvanSpider]

Mendez kept his hand firmly gripping one of those that wasn’t busy producing the dataslate, keeping his mouth shut. Atrix was a big girl, could handle her affairs, and technically didn’t need him. It was an aspect he loved and feared about her; on one hand he was wanted and he knew for a fact that she wasn’t using him, on the other she could tire of him and leave him (or worse) in the blink of one of her eight beautiful eyes. She was the gorgeous femme fatale that the film was really about – Mendez himself relegated to the role of the love interest he was all too eager to fill. “Why are you hoping for a human? Wouldn’t they be the least likely to understand your anatomy?” Mendez asked, then with a laugh added, “Well, save for me, that is.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze seeing a dizzy expression on her face, “Won’t be long until you’re fixed up and we’re outta here. You don’t have anything to worry about.”

>>>

Everyone having gone their own distinct ways, Fikri just sort of…left. The moment he realized he was alone he made the retreat to his new room. The room was foreign to him, all of his belongings boxed up in a corner. Resting on top of his own worldly belongings sat Vail’s old bag. He hadn’t looked through it yet, and not sure if he’d ever be able to, there it still sat. Taunting him. Reminding him that its owner would never come back to claim it. He stood in the doorway for a long moment, trying to decide what to do. He could just shove the bag under his bed and try to forget about it, unpack, begin redecorating. This new ship was his new home, after all. A happy giggle from Rosalind’s room told him he wasn’t alone on the ship and that whatever he chose, music should be a part of it. He pulled out his own dataslate to sync it to his new room and after a minute his door was sealed shut, his own sounds blocking out anything that might leak through from Rosalind’s.

He slid back against the door, sighing. He wanted to be productive. He could think of several things on the ship, or even in this room, that he could do. He could unpack or start on the basics for bomb making. Maybe paint. Or Draw. Maybe. But his chest felt like a boulder was lodged in it and he couldn’t bring himself to do so much as lift a finger. In all of his life he’d never felt so alone and now that he knew what it was like, knew what love was like, he wasn’t sure he could ever recover. That warm feeling that had run its course throughout his body from the tips of his ears through his tail was gone, and the path it traveled was more cold, more desolate, than ever before. He could feel the corner of the pyramid poking his leg through his pocket and it was this that he now fished for, twisting the top to feel what he once felt so organically.

It didn’t feel any different than it had the moment he realized he loved that woman that found her way onto the Odyssey not long ago – the pyramid only focused his mind on what he loved. The warm, fuzzy feeling was gone and the boulder got heavier. He closed his eyes waiting for the pyramid to work, to bring him that feeling of warmth, just wanting to see her face once more, to feel her hand in his. The warmth didn’t return. He was cold, so cold, even as she came into his visions once more. She wasn’t smiling as she usually was when she visited him in his dreams; rather, she was sitting on the bed across from him, head bowed, a tear tracing its way from the corner of her eye, down the bridge and off the tip of her nose, falling into her lap. She was speaking of her transgressions, destroying an entire planet off the sheer willpower of her race. She had baggage. Vail was never perfect. But neither was Fikri and he wanted her. He wanted her to know that he wouldn’t think less of her, that he would do anything in his power to see her happy, that he loved her.

Love wasn’t always warm and happy. Sometimes, it seemed, it was macabre. Sometimes it was empty and cold, only further reminding him of his solitude. Sometimes he didn’t want it and wished he’d never felt it at all. He gasped as she faded from his vision, longing filling him up and he choked back a sob, glancing down at the pyramid to make sure it was on the right setting.

It was.

Is this what was meant by love? This unrelenting feeling of torment? His tongue caught in his throat as he fumbled with the top of the pyramid, desperate to turn it off. As if that would do anything. Was this what it was to love someone? He’d always associated love with fulfillment. Ecstasy. But all he could focus on, with and without the pyramid it seemed, was the emptiness.

>>>>

Ashi repressed a snort, “While I don’t think that’s what I’d choose, I’ve never really thought of what I’d make my name if I had to change it. I guess I always thought I’d just be…well, the role I was born into.” Ashi was careful about the language she used in case the doctor came in. She’d been one of the ones with no id, and thankfully she’d been accepted with no fuss, but had anyone known and cared to speak up, the consequences could be dire. “I’d start calling you Sister Hyun but I imagine that will get awkward in certain situations.” Those certain situations were only mere speculation at this juncture, as Ashi was as pure as they come and her attempt at the humor wasn’t likely fooling anyone. “I guess only the uncertainties are certain at this point, aren’t they?”

Ashi found a spot on the ceiling to look at while she waited for the treatment to begin when she gave the okay, “Doctor, I think I’m ready. I’m as comfortable as I possibly can be.”