The Stars Were Made For Falling

by CrystalSeraph

Summary:

"I need to know," the nurse murmured, her voice quivering. "Is there any chance we can be saved? Just give me a sign, a grunt, or a groan. I know you're still in there...Captain. "

He looked towards her with his one remaining eye. From his position in the medical bay, he could barely make out the hall and beyond. From this vantage point, it was impossible to tell the damage inflicted on the rest of the ship's interior. There was one way, but it was a long shot. In his dream, the hallways and beyond were filled to the brim with insulation foam. One wrong move could breach the entire ship, pulling them all into the vacuum of space. However, it would be quick. A quick, painless death in comparison to the long, drawn-out painful one of slowly wasting away or suffocating...or... a plethora of horrific scenes flashed before his eyes.

Curly decided he had to take that risk—the only chance they had to survive. It was his one last job as Captain—to lead his crew on one more mission, to new life or death.

The Captain opened his mouth, and through the pain, he mustered a light groan, pleading that Anya would understand his answer. Almost immediately, her shoulders relaxed, and tears pooled in the corners of her eyes.

Chapter 1: Alone At The Edge Of The Universe

Notes:

Thank you in advance to all the post-crash au Authors who have come before me. You are all legendary in my mind and inspired me to write my own version of events. What better way to cope with the trauma of Mouthwashing than writing a FIX-IT. I chose to continue the trend of post-crash fix-it because while I believed everyone could've lived, I also don't believe in erasing Curly's disabilities. Even in the realm of fantasy, I wish certain themes were reflected more in the media we consume. Yes, becoming disabled is incredibly heartbreaking, but it's an unfortunate reality of life. I believe with my entire BEING that it is possible not only to live but to thrive after trauma, not just for Curly but for the whole Tulpar crew.
Disclaimer: Yes, I am indeed in graduate school for Mental Health Counseling, but no, I am not even close to being a licensed therapist. My knowledge is theoretical over practical, but I wanted to use this fic as an exploration of the techniques I have learned and the empathy I bring to the field. I will also be channeling personal experiences into these characters, working with my own experiences with trauma and mental illness.
So, again, while I am studying to be a therapist, none of what I write here should be taken as professional advice, especially when it comes to therapist-client relationships and the Codes of Ethics. It's scary out there in the mental health world—very messy and very blurry.

 

 

The ship hummed, and an occasional clang of the pipes settling reverberated throughout the entire vessel. The iridescent lights were dimmed to give the illusion that it was night aboard the Tulpar. It certainly was on Earth, millions of miles behind them. No sun revolved around their minuscule vessel in the vastness of space and stars. From the perspective of Earth, the Universe was a cluster of brightly lit stars. The reality of it all is that space is barren and lonely. Every star is separated from each other by several light years. Space was dark and frigid, with an infrequent asteroid belt here and there, but those were far and few between, easily tracked and avoided. Small, insignificant objects in the grand scheme of the Universe, if there was one. The captain, known mainly by his nickname, Curly, doubted the existence of meaning. Years of lugging cargo from one end of the universe to the other wore on his thinning mind. During the last ten years, all the grandiose he once felt for wonders, such as the Rings of Saturn, crumbled in disillusionment. Viewing them from afar felt spiritual, and the wonderment of their beauty took him aback. As a child, he didn’t just want to gaze upon its majesty from afar; he wanted to experience it, be near it. To take in everything the universe had to offer and more into the palms of his small, greedy hands. For sure, the first time he witnessed the rings, it was marvelous, that feeling of being a speck in the shadow of a colossus. By the third viewing, they were nothing more than a cluster of old rocks floating around a planet due to its gravitational pull. He could very well view a cluster of rocks from the comfort of his home. Were the stones that made the Grand Canyon not as profound and meaningful? Better he had been a tourist of the galaxies than a freighter. Dreams were always far more wondrous than reality.

The Tulpar itself had no clear windows to the outside world. The irony of being unable to process where they were for months was no different from being trapped at the bottom of the ocean in a submarine. Curly much preferred it that way. He could spend hours piloting this god-forsaken bucket of bolts, imagining he was in a far more pleasant place. Every monotonous adventure he set out on, he told himself this would be the last one, and then he would fall into fantasies of backpacking across Europe with nothing but the clothes on his back and pocket change. Every day, an exciting uncertainty, the thrill of not knowing what the day would bring, what he would see, who he would meet. The possibility of a love affair or two. Unfortunately, after one job, there was always another; the security held him in a persistent chokehold. The routine was too comfortable, too easy to fall back into. Manipulated into believing no one else would if he didn’t hold down the fort. If he left, who would take care of his crew? So many excuses, relentless excuses. Curly was built like a machine, hardwired to perform his duties. Space was simple and easy to comprehend and felt like nothing compared to the innumerable choices he could make to rip himself away from it all.

In the blonde man’s soul, he could feel not just mental weariness but physical weariness as he wandered through the halls of his tomb during sleeping hours. His blonde hair was disheveled from tossing and turning, and against better judgment, he wore no shoes. Due to their cruelly few allotted hours for sleep, he rarely bothered to change out of his coveralls. But for now, he had the top pulled down and the sleeves tied around his waist. His yellow t-shirt revealed the logo of his god, Pony Express. The air was suffocating and hot. What he would give to have fans installed in the halls to circulate the dead air. It was more than they could advocate for once Pony Express started to slowly strip the Tulpar of cozy commodities to save precious credits—the single vessel in the funeral procession for the last manned cargo company in the Universe. How glorious it would be if that were true. Curly’s chest seized at the thought, and he began to claw at his scalp vigorously. The relief of the idea of the company going belly-up filled his core with shame.

After a deep huff of air, he returned to his trek like an automated cart on a track, without any particular goal in mind. His usual route took him to the common area where he could gaze at the nighttime screen and dream of a place far from here. Upon vague inspection, the dining table and kitchen were spotless. Any clutter left over from their daily activities would quickly accumulate in such small, cramped quarters. The nighttime screen took up the vast majority of the back wall. Its soft blue light reflected off the appliances and chairs. He could almost describe it as peaceful and serene. It was almost as if he were sitting on the back porch of a cabin at midnight, crickets chirping, a case of beer in hand, watching the moon reflect off the lake nearby. He made a mental note to smuggle an ambiance machine on the next haul to take the edge off.

It wasn’t surprising to him when he made out the shadow of a dark head of hair resting on the couch in the lounge. That same blue light eclipsed her form: Anya, the Tulpar’s resident nurse and the only medical staff on board. Not only did he expect her to be there, but a slight pinch in his heart hoped she would be. Despite being in only socks, he lumbered across the floor, making as much noise as possible to alert her to his presence without alarming her. Their nighttime rendezvous became a bit of an unexpected habit for the two of them. He couldn’t even remember when they started. For as long as the prized captain could remember, he had issues sleeping during appropriate hours. He often found the woman splayed out on the couch and proceeded to let her be. Not wanting to engage in casual conversation. However, the more frequently they bumped into each other, the more he felt himself developing an urge to abandon his shield and approach her. They didn’t even have to be friends, just acquaintances to pass the time. This was Anya’s third expedition on the Tulpar, and, much like her previous trips during downtime, she was studying. The diligent student pressed her limits regarding the weight limit of personal items. As her superior, the captain was occasionally forced to scold her and went so far as to insist that she consider bringing a tablet with her instead. It would have been far more economical with the limitless amount of storage they could have had. Anya went so far as to decline his offer to gift her one if the cost was an issue.

Reflecting on it now, receiving a personal gift from him was inappropriate, given their positions. However, while brushing it off, she gave him an earful on her superstitions. She could only retain such information with a thick book between her fingers. The crisp sound the pages made as she turned them stimulated her mind. Ambiance was essential to her learning process, and she’d have to swat his fingers if he got in the way. Again, he could not understand her logic, but the memory of their transaction brought a smile to his face. It was one of many reasons why he always found her endearing. She knew what she liked and how she liked it. That certainty in her left him green with envy. Each roundabout they went on lasted a little over a year, just in time for her medical exams, which would take place either in the fall or spring. Like the good Captain he was, he would leave her with a farewell, well-meaning words of encouragement, and a joke about how he hoped he would never see her again on the Tulpar. When he reviewed his crew list for the third time, her name appeared on it again. Another exam failed, which meant she would not be able to attend medical school, and she was forced to reapply. Curly would never dare to say it out loud, knowing how soul-crushing it must be to return to this dead-end job again and again, but seeing her name filled him with a sense of shameful relief—almost joy or maybe anticipation. Either way, he brushed it aside. It was terrible of him to feel that way.

He remembered the look of surprise on her face the first time he grasped the back of the couch and how it melted into a supportive smile. Much like every meeting before, she turned and smiled as he placed his hand on the couch for support and rounded it before dropping all his weight into its lumpy cushion. Unlike him, she had, at one point, changed out of her coveralls and into a more comfortable pajama set. It was hard to discern the color in this lighting, but from its sheen, they appeared to be silky. They sat silently for a while, and not even a verbal greeting was shared between them. The routine they shared brought him comfort. Stacks of textbooks, notebooks, and loose-leaf papers were splayed out in front of them on the coffee table. The scene was chaotic to him, but meticulous. While he couldn’t make rhyme or reason of Anya’s system, she once explained there was a place for everything, and if he attempted to help her clean up, she would have to smack his hand for it. That was the second time she threatened him with physical force, which was oddly endearing. The sight of her clutter used to make his skin itch, but after a while, it began to melt the sterile environment of the ship and made it feel more like a home.

Despite the stagnant air he complained about moments ago, he shuddered with a cold, clammy feeling. His entire body tingled as if a limb had fallen asleep. Anya must have also felt him shake because she peeled herself from her chicken scratch to eye him.

“Cold?” She asked, her sweet voice breaking down the barricade of silence before folding a corner of one of her textbooks and closing it. Diabolical.

“It’s just the strangest thing. For a moment, it felt like I laid down on a bed of nails.” He groaned, leaning forward in his spot, eyeing the table as if he were assessing her work. Anatomy. The titles of the books he could clearly make out. The essays she had written, not so much.

“Better?” She responded. Pushing her large light blue glasses up her face. It wasn’t often he saw her in her glasses. It surprised him the first time he saw them. Up until that point, he had only seen her in her contacts. He never considered the quality of her sight either way. They looked good on her. The way her hair curled around them framed her face well.

“Yes.” His wheeze was unconvincing to her, and he could feel the weight of her overbearing pressure. Curly could tell she rolled her eyes without even looking at her. While he sat there, bent over his knees, he felt her weight shift on the couch, and suddenly, a blanket had been thrown over his exposed back and head. A standard company-issued blanket that, under normal conditions, would feel as secure as a roll of dry paper towels. But from Anya, it felt like a welcomed gift. It was still warm, too. She must have been using it earlier. The gentlemanly response would be to refuse the gesture and tell her she needed it more than he did. Curly didn’t say any of that. He didn’t want to refuse her generous offer and simply leaned back against the couch again, his back cracking like microwaved popcorn as he went. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the young nurse crack a smile, and he could feel his face burn. “I’m not much of a young man anymore, am I?” He tried to jest as he grabbed the edges of the blanket and shifted it over his head, hoping it would keep her from observing any more of his insecurities.

“Oh, Captain, no reasonable adult believes anyone in their 30s is old.” She smirked.

“Bah, that’s what reasonable adults tell themselves to make themselves feel better. My knees tell me I’m pushing forty.” Curly whined as he made a grand gesture of rolling his neck to release its pressure.

“Maybe that wouldn’t be the case if you listened to me when I told you to stop toting around so much at once. God knows you have more than enough time to make a second trip.” Anya nagged. She took every chance she could to share her advanced medical knowledge.

“Second trips are for quitters!” He chimed.

“You’ll be quitting permanently with two blown-out knees.” She snorted out a small laugh. It was adorable. She was adorable. As inappropriate as it was, he couldn't help himself. He noticed it in all of her little quirks. She never hid them or seemed ashamed of them. Anya was just Anya. She was tall, contrasted by a small frame. The way her hair was teased gave her a youthful appearance, and she maintained it even on long trips. He thought about how long it would be before they arrived back on Earth, followed by a grimace that stretched across his face and wrinkled his brow. Those pesky crows' feet struck again, and his own embarrassment washed over him. Even if he were to discount the nearly decade-long age gap between them, he couldn't shoo away the fact that he was her captain, making him her superior. The power disparity between them was so immense that he shouldn’t even entertain any thoughts of attraction between them. But this wasn't a romantic attraction, he told himself. Her appearance was simply an observation.

“Are you done?” Anya’s voice rang out again, pulling him from his thoughts.

“Done with what?” He asked.

“Assessing the details.” She said flatly while adjusting her glasses. In the middle of his internal monologue, she had picked up a smaller book and had already begun working over it ruthlessly with a highlighter.

“What details?”

“With you, I’m never sure. Sometimes, I lose you mid-conversation.” Anya raised the end of her highlighter to her lips and tapped the rim several times with the cap. Even without makeup, her lips were full and glossy. Shit, he caught himself looking again.

“How’s progress going?” The captain hastily changed subjects and hoped he didn’t look too guilty while doing it.

“It’s going,” She said after a long pause. The nurse leaned back over the table and laid her open book on its surface. To his dismay, she pressed the spine flat, causing it to crack and pop like his back. While she scribbled on the pages' margins, she continued. “At this point, I could pinpoint every nerve ending on your entire body through your skin. But it still doesn’t feel like enough.” She closed the book with a painful crunch before tossing it back in the pile, which caused a few of the loose papers to fly away. “Shit.” The woman made no motion to retrieve her precious materials. Instead, she repositioned herself on the couch, pulling her legs up to her side. She leaned back and grasped her ankles. No longer was she looking towards her books. Now, she was looking directly at him. Quickly, she gave a hearty smack to his knee. His mouth fell agape momentarily as he could not comprehend her physical touch. “How about you tell me what’s on your mind, Captain? You seem troubled, and I wouldn’t want you falling asleep at the wheel…literally.” Anya added.

“Hm…” Curly gave her a partial smile, and he felt the corners of his mouth twitch. “Nothing a young girl like you should worry about. Just worry about yourself. After all, the ninth time is the charm!” His empty laugh bellowed throughout the small room. Anya’s face fell and then swelled with a pout, and she crossed her arms tightly to her chest. Soon, she was playfully kicking his leg with her foot. The old man couldn’t believe what she was doing. This was the first time they had exchanged a friendly touch outside of a firm handshake and his physical exams, and it felt far too intimate. Her kicks didn’t hurt, but were relentless, and he had no choice but to cautiously bat her away with his forearm. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I’m not making fun of you, I swear! If anything, I find you to be very inspiring!” She recoiled her leg slowly and made herself comfortable again in the crook of the couch.

“Lieess!” she hissed at him. “Stop deflecting; this conversation isn’t about me. You always do this. I’ve instated a new rule! From now on, I refuse to tell you anything else unless you give back a little.”

“It’s…not a lie.” He sputtered out. “It takes a lot of courage to keep trying after so many failures. I would’ve given up a long time ago if I were you.” Curly pulled the blanket slowly from his head, and his bright curls bounced as they were freed. He swallowed hard before committing to looking her squarely in the eyes. Anya’s eyes squint to a sliver, and a soft growl gurgles from her throat. Clearly, that wasn’t a sufficient response. Like a moron, he continued to offend her.

“Hard to imagine, only because it’s hard to imagine you failing at anything.” She scoffs.

“It’s true. I can’t remember committing to being bad at anything.” Another slight growl erupted from her throat, and he could tell she itched to kick him again. “H-however, in my defense, that is due in part to me never pursuing anything I didn’t have a knack for in the first place. I’m good at flying a spaceship from one end of the galaxy to the other, so I’ve spent the last ten years doing just that.” He held a finger high to nothing in particular while running it from one end of the room to the next, demonstrating to her how many times he had made the trip. “Nothing to it. In space, you just pick a direction and go. It’s not often you have to make a hairpin swerve. There isn’t a lot of traffic out here. The autopilot is pretty reliable at tuning the finer directions.”

“You’re the Captain… because it’s easy?” She asked, her face scrunched.

“Oof, when you put it like that, I kinda sound like a jackass.” Curly clenched his teeth. “It’s not like I was PERFECT when I first started, but I would be lying if I said it didn’t come easily. After a decade, I’m just going through the motions.”

“Seems monotonous.”

“It is.”

“And you enjoy it?” Her question stopped him in his tracks. If the silence lasted thirty seconds or thirty minutes, he couldn’t tell. Whichever it was, he was silent for far too long. He could feel beads of sweat gathering on the back of his neck as he struggled to decide whether he could be honest with her or not. Suddenly, however, Curly could feel his hand hovering over the lock on his inner world. This could be his chance, his new beginning, and on a whim, he chose to throw his entire shoulder into that door.

“Damn, no…actually. Hell, I despise being here. I spend most of my time imagining I’m somewhere else.” He stuttered and coughed on saliva that was caught in his throat. At all costs, the Captain avoided her gaze, peering over her; he couldn’t handle her initial reaction and chose to dart his eyes across the nighttime screen instead. Chucking that statement out into the room didn’t relieve his anxiety. He feared what the young woman's response would be. What if she were to find him absurd?

“Mmm, so you’re stuck?” She responded almost immediately in a soft, understanding tone. Curly looked back towards her; her posture was less protective, and her arms were more relaxed. “Sometimes I feel stuck, too. I could ask myself the same thing: how long can I struggle for this dream before I’m driven insane by it? What if that life I’m fighting so hard for was never really for me? What if I get there and it isn’t everything I had hoped for? Am I wasting my life?” Curly was flabbergasted by the coincidence. Somehow, all of her questions were his own. Questions that the little voice in his head repeated over and over, constantly jerking his consciousness around.

“Ha-haaa, I, for one, know I spent the better part of my youth wasting my time in space.” He sighed while slouching down in his seat. He failed to take the blanket on his journey, and it ended up covering his head and brow again. The action triggered a giggle out of the girl, and he couldn’t help but flash a big, toothy smile her way.

“Good thing you’re still young.” She joked.

“Yeah, yeaaah,” He lazily threw out there. “Making the choice to leave is easier said than done.” Anya’s face lacked sympathy for his plight, but instead was filled with curiosity.

“What big dreams does a captain have?” She wistfully asked. Curly paused again for far too long. It’s something he’s thought about for years on end with no clear answer. When he pondered what he could be doing instead of a freighter, he blanked and continued to find himself back in that cabin on the lake. A different career never came to mind. That uncertainty was tied to him like an anchor, and Pony Express had thrown him into the water. What would it take to stop flailing and cut the rope?

“Cabin on the lake. Right at the tail end of summer, when the leaves start to change. It’s always sunset.” He clicked his tongue and glanced over at her.

“Sounds wonderful.” She said, and he smirked in response.

“...I did go to college once.” He murmured.

“Oh?”

“I always loved spaceships, machinery, and mechanics. My original goal was to be an engineer, and well, you can see how that turned out.” Curly sighed nervously, looking over his shoulder as if he were about to be caught any second.

“You can’t leave me in suspense like that; there’s an entire story you’re leaving out!” She leaned forward, eyeing him relentlessly.

“I dropped out my third year.” The words hit the air with a thud. “I was never a lousy student. I thought I was a good student. Not valedictorian, but I always did well. Then I hit a wall and couldn’t keep up with the math, differential equations, ...variables. I was too afraid to admit to any of my advisors that I was struggling. So I quit.”

“But you were so close to the end. You can’t tell me that’s ALL there was to it.” She probably didn’t mean it, but her judgment weighed heavily on his chest. Anya was right, and there was more to it, but nothing more than a story of excuses and willingness to take the road of least resistance. “You could always go back! Start again.”

“If I had even an ounce of your determination, Anya, I’d be studying with you. Hell, I’d have been doing it this entire time.”

“That’s a lot to ask; you do so much as is.” Pity now painted the woman’s face.

“Thank you for that, but that ache in the back of my mind sees through all my excuses.” He looked forlorn. “But…you know…it’s kinda nice to admit that to someone else for once. It’s like this huge weight has been lifted from my shoulders.” That was, in fact, not true. He still hated himself for being a shitty cowardly failure, and his neck burned with envy over the nurse’s self-efficacy. She was still young, still full of youthful optimism. Untainted by the bitterness of time. For all of her self-doubt, she continued to claw her way out of this muddy, slippery hole.

Curly watched as her lips pursed and the entirety of her face scrunched up as if she were lost in thought. To his surprise, she slowly slid her legs off the couch until her feet were firmly placed on the ground and scooted closer to where he sat. Their proximity added to his current anxiousness, but he didn’t shy away from her. Unlike before, when she had aggressively assaulted him with kicks, she reassuringly patted his knee.

“If you ever need a study partner back on Earth, hit me up. I could always use the help paying rent.” She coyly winked at him before retreating to her original spot. “Studying by the lakeside, cigarette in my hand, the sunset casting shadows over the trees. The sound of birds nesting in their branches. A peaceful, calm, not a suffocating, sterile environment. ” Anya’s eyes were closed, and she let out a small sigh as she visualized the scene. Curly’s eyes widened. What could she have meant by that? Was she accepting an offer that only existed in his deepest fantasy? He opened his mouth to ask her for clarification, but no words came out, so she continued her thought instead. “I’ve decided this will be my last trip on the Tulpar…Curly. I’d rather work retail for the rest of my life than drain it away in space. Surrounded by people…and animals…plants too. I want to be around the living! To feel alive again and not trapped in... in this nothingness! I want to peacefully ignore my existential dread with a frappuccino in my hand like everyone else…how does that sound?” The nurse was nothing but surprises tonight. She unapologetically bounced from one extreme to another while he sat there completely clammed up, fused by sweat to the couch.

“It sounds…fantastic. I’ll take my coffee black, or I fear my heart might go into shock.” He chortled, and the woman beside him huffed.

“Thank God I’m not a man. I’m allowed to admit I like things…like a little sugar.” Anya rolled her eyes.

“A LITTLE sugar? Those are sugar BOMBS!” The older man accentuated his words carefully as he slowly felt safe enough to joke around with her. Anya’s lips thinned to cover up a stifled laugh and then fell silent.

Another drawn-out, deafening silence, the tenderness of the atmosphere that had just filled the room all but vanished- and his ears began to ring, followed by the sudden urge to run away. “Ah, WELL, thank you for your time tonight, Nurse Anya. It would probably be best if I attempted to get a couple of hours of shut-eye before I relieve Jimmy of his duties.” Curly wiped the sweat building up on his palms on his pant legs before swiftly rising to his feet. He glanced at her again to see her looking intensely at the couch seat, eyes vast but empty. “Anya?... are you okay? You should get to bed as well.” If she heard, she didn’t acknowledge his comment.

“It’s too late.” The young woman whispered.

“What?” He lowered himself to the floor next to her. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch what you said.”

“It’s too late.” Through her bulging eyes, tears pooled around the rims, and she began to cry. Her mouth had fallen open and loosely hung from her jaw. “You killed us all, you disgusting coward.”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His bangs were plastered to his forehead with sweat. What is this? Anxiousness? His nerves? No, it was suddenly so bloody hot in that room that he was beginning to gasp for air.

“It’s so loud! So loud! Please make it stop!” The woman’s eyes snapped shut, and she slammed her hands over her ears. “Make that damn alarm stop!” She screamed. The lounge was eerily quiet, except for the sounds of Anya screaming.

“There isn’t any alarm! It’s all in your head, Anya. You’re alright!” The captain reached towards her, desperately attempting to make contact with her shoulder to calm her.

“DON’T touch me!” Curly froze as she shouted, her eyes wide again, brows clinched. A glare so fierce and full of malice. “You have no right to touch me! Your hands are as tainted as his! Dirty! Filthy! Worthless man!” He stood there, his hand frozen in place, hovering over her shoulder.

She was gone.

The space on the couch she occupied lay empty. Barren as if she were never there at all.

The blue glow of the nighttime screen flickered and shut off, leaving nothing but the residual hum of the electrical current. The strain in his chest was relentless, and his breath began to quicken. The darkness and heat made his body panic. It begged for oxygen, but the pressure on his chest had swollen his throat shut. Breathe in. Breathe out. He knew it was all an illusion created by his mind. He wasn’t being smothered. Just slowly, slowly take in the air. There was enough oxygen cycling through the Tulpar even during power outages. The dutiful captain had plenty of time to locate the breaker in the dark, one cautious step at a time, up a couple of steps from the lounge.

“Anya? Are you still there?” Silence. She was gone. Curly began to question his sanity and wonder whether she had ever been there. Were her books still on the table? He didn’t bother to check; he couldn’t in the dark.

A red light snapped on behind him with a deafening pop, which caused him to slip on one of the steps. While on his knees, he slowly turned to look at the screen again. It no longer displayed a picture of the sky and was cracked and broken. In its place was an aggressive “WARNING” sign duplicated repeatedly, as if each crack were its own screen. The signs were distorted and pixelated. Did the emergency generator manage to kick on? If it had, he couldn’t tell; the room was still so bloody hot! His hands left an imprint of sweat on the vinyl flooring as he hoisted himself up. The Tulpar’s trajectory must be straight into a fucking sun for it to be so hot. If he were to stay here any longer, his blood would start to boil. Nothing but the screen seemed to have come back on. He would still have to check the breaker, and to himself, he prayed it was a fuse. If the Tulpar suffered a major mechanical failure, they would be screwed. But that was impossible; after all, she had been given the clear.. The ship passed inspection before they took off, but he still had doubts. It wasn’t beyond Pony Express to completely fuck them on the final pass. It would save them some goddamn pennies of severance pay if the crew went missing in the vastness of the abyss known as space! NEVER to be seen again!

Wait, how did he know that? When did he find out they were all fired? Curly wasn’t even considering it when speaking to Anya moments ago. If all of them were fired, why would she tell him she was leaving as if she was going of her own free will? He knew she knew because he told them, all of them. It’s why his best friend, best buddy, old pal was in a depressive slump for days. He could picture Jimmy’s knuckles turning white as he gripped the ship's steering wheel. Lost in another world, the brown-haired man refused even to turn an eye Curly’s way. A sharp feeling of guilt flooded his very being. Jimmy had every right to be angry with him. They all did. But what else could he do? Tell them at the end and leave them with even less time to figure out what to do? Wasn’t Anya going to quit anyway? Why did she look so sad?

The announcement was made days ago. Does that mean his conversation with Anya was merely a memory? Curly began to laugh as he brushed his sopping bangs out of his face.

“I’m going crazy.” He murmured. “I’m seeing things now, Jimmy. I’m just the same as you.” With a slightly exasperated groan, he began his trudge through the living room. The breaker wasn’t that far away, as he recounted its location. Just past the medical room on the right. Down the access manhole near the ship’s supply room.

The automatic door immediately hindered his trek; he almost walked right into it, temporarily forgetting their emergency situation. Luckily enough for him, it still had a handhold in case of power outages. As he touched it, he leapt back in surprise. Curly must have left his prints on the door handle because he could still hear his fingers sizzle. This was becoming a matter of life or death. The captain ran back towards the couch and grabbed the blanket Anya had given him earlier. Or did she? It didn’t matter now. Back at the door with the blanket, he grabbed the handle again and yanked hard. With a loud, bellowing moan, the door slowly worked itself free. A billow of hot air blew through the opening, searing his face. Tears leaked from his squinted eyes, but he was committed to trudging on. The power being out here implied the cockpit would be down, too. If he didn’t work fast, they would be sent entirely adrift. The state of the Tulpar implied that it already had. Once he had gathered his bearings, he leaped through the door. So close, it was so close.

And there she was. He saw her from the corner of his eye, basking in the red of the emergency lights. Anya. She was slouched, holding herself close. This time, she was back in her work coveralls, and slowly, she shuffled down the adjacent hallway and out of sight.

“Anya!” He cried but gathered no response. Go after her or the breaker? Turning the power on would save them, including her. He had to stay focused and lumbered down the hall. His feet sizzled with every step. Images of her on the ground, crying over what Jimmy had done to her, flooded his mind. The image blurred and crackled. Static. It was almost as if his brain wouldn’t allow itself to believe it. Jimmy had always been rough around the edges, like a pendulum swinging violently back and forth. For weeks on end, he could be excitable or angry, fired up to get the job done, but after that, like clockwork, he was in a slump that would go on for just as long. More docile and yet, at the same time, more unpredictable. Curly’s mind raced to see the signs, the dead pixel. The jokes? Was it the jokes? It couldn’t have been Jimmy, not his Jimmy. Maybe Anya was mistaken. SHUT UP. SHUT UP! You bastard! You piece of shit. He repeated over and over in his head.

Curly was abruptly blown backward, and he fell to the metal grating of the floor with a huge thud. His arm immediately recoiled, and he cried out in pain. He clambered to his feet, shoving up his sleeve to assess the damage to his arm, which was blistered and burned. The pattern of the metal grating had been branded into his skin. Just then, he noticed his coveralls had been pulled up, and he was wearing his boots. His jaw locked up, and he wheezed heavily through clenched teeth. It was almost as if he had stepped into another scene. The blare of an alarm reverberated in his ears, encasing the man in a cacophony of commotion. The once solid red lights began to spin in time with the alarm. He turned to look at what had exploded in his face, and he managed a gasp through his teeth. The hallway was filled with foam, extending down to the medical room and the hallways to either side of it. They were screwed. It made no sense, and they would have had to hit something significant for the insulation foam to go off, something big enough to tear a hole in the ship. An attempt to try and claw his way through it could mean death to all of them if they weren’t already dead. The engine had to be on fire for the ship to be turned into an oven like this.

The captain did a 180-degree turn and ran down the stairs next to the lounge while he cradled his burned arm. The only option left was to see if anything could be done in the cockpit. The bowels of the Tulpar weren’t enormous. Quickly, he made his way past Swansea’s maintenance room and the ship's cargo hold, seemingly untouched by the damage the crash must have caused. Inside the maintenance room, four cryopods lay dormant. Not enough for the entire crew, but it didn’t matter if the ship went up in flames.

Crash? Is that what happened? Curly found himself swearing between gasps for air and the heavy thuds of his boots. The rest of the crew was nowhere to be seen. Were they caught upstairs in the sleeping quarters? Trapped? Smothered by the fires, he couldn’t see.

There, by the loading dock, he saw her again.

“Anya!” Curly cried out, but the siren drowned out his voice. He was close enough to make out the expression on her face. Her brow was furrowed, and her gaze was forward with intent. Unbothered by the cage melting all around her. She was still wearing her glasses, leaving him unsure of the time, as the glasses did not indicate whether it was morning or night. But what could she be thinking, coming down here alone at a time like this? “Anya!” He screamed with more veracity, but it was fruitless. She was already gone. So he pushed forward.

As Curly rounded the corner toward the hallway before the cockpit, he could hear a haunting moan echoing from its depths, masking the wail of the alarms. It was dark; the emergency lights were on, but the darkness consumed their illumination. The moans transformed into a whimpering cry. He recognized that cry, and it haunted him. It wasn’t the cry of a man but a little boy. Curly subconsciously knelt to the ground, ignoring the sparks scorching his pants. With his good arm, he reached for whoever hid in the darkness. He was calm as if he had been in this situation before, and didn’t even question how a child could be on the Tulpar.

A young boy steps out of the shadows. The child appeared to be around ten years old. His hair was brown, long, and unkempt, and his clothes were worn and tattered. Dingy and far too large for his skeletal frame. His eyes were glossy, and his face was red as if he had desperately scrubbed tears with his sleeve.

“Hey there, Jimmy. It must have been scary being all by yourself in the dark. It’s not safe, big guy. Let’s get you out of here.” Curly warmly smiled at the child, but Jimmy did not attempt to come any closer.

With a scowl, the boy shouted, “You lied to me! Just like all the rest! TRAITOR!”

“I-I don’t know what you mean. I didn’t leave you, just like I promised.” Curly tried to reassure the child but was caught off guard by the lightness of his own voice. High-pitched and crackly. His eyes flickered down towards his own body to find that he was no longer kneeling on the ground but standing. No longer was he a grown man but a small child again. Curly observed his tiny hands, soft and void of the calluses created from decades of hard work. This was a dream, a terrifying nightmare he could not wake up from, yet the blonde boy felt an uncanny sense of relief wash over him. Both good and bad dreams eventually come to an end. Curly’s focus drifted back to Jimmy, who glared at him. Jimmy’s cheeks were puffed up into a pout. Even in a dream, his words stung like a hot knife, but this child version of Curly tried to brush them off. Jimmy said a lot of things he didn’t mean when he was upset. If the boy were to take it personally, they never would have made any progress. At least, that was how his mother always reassured him.

“You’re looking for that girl, aren’t you? I bet you never even wondered where I was. How alone I was. I bet you only thought of me because I got in your way again. I’m always in your way, aren’t I?” Jimmy’s voice was full of venom as he poked and stabbed. He didn’t mean it, Curly repeated over and over again.

“That’s not true! I wanted to save everyone! That’s why I’m here. Can’t you feel how hot it is? We are in danger. All of us! This isn’t just about you.” Curly rebutted. This was just a dream; everyone was safe in the real world, and yet he couldn’t help but fight Jimmy on this one. They had been fighting since the day they met. It wasn’t fair. Why did he always have to be the bigger person? Whatever that meant, just because he was bigger than Jimmy didn’t mean he wasn’t just a kid, too.

“Not just about me?” Jimmy smirked. “That’s really rich coming from you. Do you think we are equals? Well, we aren’t. It must be nice to have everything handed to you. Even when you quit, someone’s always there to bail you out.”

“How long will you hold all of that over my head? How much must you take from me before you feel your debt’s been repaid?” Curly shouts. He doesn’t mean to; shouting doesn’t help anything.

“That’s just the thing, Curly, it can’t be repaid. I’m screwed. We might have come into the world the same way, but I was torn apart and taped back together. I’ll never be a perfect little boy like you. I’ll always be broken. Scarred.” Jimmy sneered.

“But you didn’t have the right to drag everyone else into our problems.”

“I didn’t do a damn thing, Captain! That was all on you. You dragged them into this. You’re the one who had to bring that woman into the middle of all this.” Jimmy spat, and Curly stepped forward to grab him by his shirt before being cut off by the ear-piercing wail of the alarm returning. The red lights cut through the darkness once more, illuminating the hall. Jimmy grabbed his head and began to scream before dropping to the floor. The entire vessel shook, knocking Curly off balance. His arm ached with pain, and he instinctively grabbed it only to jerk away. The festering blisters from falling on the grate had returned. He was a grown man again, and before him was Jimmy. He, too, was grown but was still sitting in the fetal position, grabbing at his hair. Without even uttering a word to him, Curly knew he was gone. He wasn’t getting anything else out of the spindly man. But still, he couldn’t help himself.

“You did this…didn’t you?” Curly murmured. It didn’t matter whether Jimmy heard him or not. Against better judgment, he was trapped on the rails with no other option but to move forward. His mind fluttered back to Anya. Did she run into Jimmy on her way down to the cockpit, or were they trapped on separate planes of existence? A heavy ache in the pit of his stomach left him with the notion that Anya must be down there. He couldn’t fathom the reason why she would ever go to the cockpit alone. Unless…she knew. Curly was unable to make sense of the story playing out before him, and still, he trudged on. With steady feet, he made his way to the hall leading to the cockpit. With a whoosh, the door slid open, revealing a set of the steepest stairs he had ever seen in his entire life. There weren’t any stairs to the cockpit, he thought with a smirk. This wasn’t the first time he walked down these very stairs. They were ominous, like he was about to descend into the depths of hell itself. That hell was his life, and he dreaded returning there over and over again. But this time was different. It wasn’t about his job or his future. It was about Anya, even this fictional one he had created in his own head. Smoke wafted up the shaft, and the metal walls glowed red from the heat. The captain's vision started to blur and warp; the heat emanating from the shaft warped the air around him. One foot after another, he began his descent. To the front of him were stairs, which were just as endless behind him. There was no turning back.

The sheer oppressive nature of the shaft slowly eroded all of his senses. Curly knew the walls were molten, and a single touch would strip the very flesh from his skin, but he could no longer make out the sweltering temperature. His pores no longer produced any sweat, but that didn't matter. There was no breeze to cool him. The screech of the warning alarm was nothing more than a distant muffle miles behind him, and the path before him was eerily silent beside the stomp of his boots on the steps that reverberated all around him. Curly never considered himself claustrophobic, but became tremendously conscious of his large size in the continuously narrowing tunnel. He was ever the more anxious of accidentally touching the walls and instinctively ducked his head.

The steps disappeared under his feet without warning, and he fell into darkness and silence.

It wasn’t a long fall. Almost immediately, his body slammed against solid ground. Shoulder first, and then his head cracked like an egg on the pavement. The grating burned like a hot iron, repelling him again from the ground. This time, he knew he wasn’t as lucky. The polyester of his uniform had melted into his shoulder, and the pain radiating from his face was excruciating, and he could no longer open his right eye. Panic consumed him, and he was unable to resist checking the extent of the damage. He tried to gently pat his face, needing to know if the right side was still there.

The attempt was in vain; he could not tolerate physical touch long enough to determine what was missing. Again, he had no choice but to continue on. Before him was the door to the cockpit. The Tulpar shook violently. Fear crept over him, coiling around him like a giant snake. What would be there waiting for him behind that door? His original intention of saving the ship was all but lost on him. Whatever had befallen them, it was already too late, just like Anya had said. What more could he do? If all of this was nothing more than a dream, why did it hurt so much? With a shallow cry that emerged from the back of his throat, he reached out with his left hand, pathetically waving it in front of the door, begging the censor to do the work for him. The door shuddered, strained against the turbulence, and struggled to glide halfway open, forcing him to shoulder the rest of the burden. Curly crammed his broad frame into the opening and, with his good shoulder, he shimmied it the rest of the way.

The screens all displayed the same message as those scattered around the ship. “WARNING” with the added “CRASH IMMINENT” blinking desperately in the computer’s green monochrome lettering. The man was frustrated, confused, and in pain. The dream was out of order, and something was missing. He had to do something unless they were genuinely flying into the sun, but he struggled to muster the strength to bother. The captain stood there apathetically, eyeing the screens, and had yet to move from the door frame. The true irony of his life is to suffer for trying or to die, not doing anything at all. The words of hope Anya had gifted him were no more tangible than this very dream he was having. Walking away from this life was just as big a disaster as doing nothing at all. Years of bitterness consumed him, fueled by the world's unfairness around him. He was born sad, and there was no way to escape it, just as Anya was stuck here with him. Her struggles and attempts to free herself were just as pathetic and embarrassing as his stagnation.

And there she was.

Anya.

Face down.

Collapsed on the floor between the two chairs. Her glasses lay beside her, broken.

The Captain couldn’t think. Couldn’t… breathe. The physical pain was nonexistent while his ears crackled with the sound of static. His mind had collapsed, and every wisp of self-loathing had gone with it. His eyes bulged at the sight of her.

A blood-curdling scream exploded from his chest.

With all the force the man could muster, he launched himself through the door and slid to his knees where she lay. Without checking for vital signs, he grabbed Anya from underneath her armpits and dragged her a few steps across the turbulent floor.

Save her.

Save them.

No matter the cost.

It’s your responsibility.

With a firm, swift swing, he flipped her over his mutilated shoulder and, with the last remainder of his strength, lobbed her across the cockpit and through the door. Curly didn’t check to see where she landed but was overcome by relief when the door shuddered and creaked shut. With confidence, he swiveled the captain’s chair and dropped down. He could tell the wheel was smoldering through the haze, but that didn’t matter anymore. He grabbed it with both hands, red, blistering, and bleeding. Immense pain shot through his arms and legs, but he accepted it. Tears flowed from his remaining eye, blinding him. This was it; he knew it to be so. He was about to die. Every meaningless event of his life amounted to this one last duty.

With everything he had left, he yanked at the steering wheel.

The world went black. Curly could hear nothing but the crunch and cracks of the vessel colliding with another body. Soon after, the foam exploded and hissed, bursting from its containment.

Then, nothing, followed by pain and more pain. Where is all of this pain coming from when he’s supposed to be dead?! He remembered that they hit an asteroid. He wasn’t able to divert the crash. TOO LATE! But what is this? This pain consumed him as if his entire body had been stripped of its flesh with acid.

Curly couldn’t see; if not for the low him of machinery, he would assume he was deaf. He attempted to move his limbs, but the scraping of his flesh against a solid object irritated his wounds, causing him to cry out. What was happening? Why couldn’t he move? Was this real or just another dream? Completely paralyzed by pain and panic, he could do no more than cry. Wherever he was now, his wailing echoed off the walls. It was horrific; the sound of his ghastly cries spooked him and he choked on his saliva. Unable to attend to himself, he began to gag.

Running, he heard footsteps. Curly was familiar with the sounds of feet bounding across the metal grating of the Tulpar. Soon after, the buzzing of an automatic door was followed by frantic gasps, panicked enough to mimic his own. He couldn’t see her, but he could hear her.

“Oh my god, oh my god. I can’t believe it.” The nurse's voice was wheezy, and she wasn’t speaking to him. With each step, Curly could feel the woman approaching him. “You’re awake. I can’t believe you’re awake.” Her voice wafted over his head. Curly tried to respond, but his face was stiff, pulled to its limits, and his throat burned. He could do nothing but continue to gag. “Hold on…hold ON!” Anya snapped. “I’m sorry, I have water. I’m so sorry.” He could hear the zip of something being opened, and after a moment, he was poked in the face with a small object. “It’s a straw,” she murmured. Try sucking on it the best you can.”

Through his coughing fit, he tried to place his lips around it, but he couldn’t. Why couldn’t he? Why can’t he do that?! With no other option, he grasped the straw with his teeth and choked down a sip of water. It felt like a cactus was shoved down his throat, but it was enough to subdue his fit, but he still squirmed in agony.

“Good, good, I’m glad that helped. I’m just so…so happy you’re alive.” Anya whimpered, suppressing a cry. “Oh, let me remove the patch so you can see.” Curly could feel her body as it hovered over him. As she peeled the patch off, the nurse used her other hand to gently shield his eye, giving him time to adjust to his surroundings. He was in the medical bay; the lights were dimmed, except for the sky screen, which was currently displaying a sunset. His permanent sunset. It was quiet, all but his whimpers and the rustling of fabric. Still, Anya loomed over him, staring directly into his eye. All of her features drooped with a sorrowful expression. Curly tried to blink to avert her gaze, but couldn’t.

“Welcome back…Captain. Let me bring you medicine, " she said with a soft, sad smile.

Notes:

Thank you so much to everyone who got through that chapter!
I have minimal writing experience and even less in horror, but I had the MUSE to go for it with the first chapter.

The fic Title and Chapter titles were straight ripped from "Dream Sweet in Sea Major" by Miracle Musical. I am in no way that poetic, lol.

Just to confirm, yes, that conversation with Anya at the beginning very much did happen and it occurred before she was raped.

Follow me on social media if you would like to!
Twitter: @crystal_seraph
BlueSky: @crystalseraph
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Chapter 2: The Water Tastes Like Plastic

Notes:

TW: Mentions of bodily fluids, including vomiting and mucus, ableist terms

This ended up being CRAZY long. That was very unintentional.
I'm at the point where I can't guarantee that the summary paragraph will actually end up in a chapter, but I'm going to try. I wrote it on the fly to have something as the summary that fits the vibe, lol. I swear, after I get going, the characters have a mind of their own. That's how this chapter ended up SO long. The kids are bickering with each other and getting emotional.

I know I tagged this as an eventual romance, but with the way they are flirting, I might just remove the tag lol.

Fire, everything was burning. The pain was excruciating to the point of nausea; he couldn’t help but squirm on the cot. His limbs scraped and slid desperately across the slick polyester fabric. The bed was wet, and the smell of iron assaulted his senses. Curly could barely lift his head to comprehend his predicament. Blood, it had to be blood. His blood, he assumed, but he didn’t understand why he was bathing in it. His limbs tingled in agony, and his miserable attempts to simply blink failed him. Every wretched endeavor to sit up ended in agony as small gasps and groans escaped him. Anya didn’t bother to remove the wraps from his left eye, making it difficult to ascertain where she had gone. His entire body was shifted towards the screen, and unable to blink, the blue light quickly dried out and irritated his eye. She couldn’t have been gone for more than a few minutes, but the wait felt like an eternity.

Curly could feel it coming—the same panic he felt in his dreams. He never considered himself a God-fearing man, but in that moment, he pleaded to a deity he didn’t believe in, praying he was still trapped in that nightmare.

Wake up, just wake up. Count to ten, and you’ll wake up. It’s just another dream, another scene being played out before you.

But this was a dream he couldn’t strong-arm out of. He was still there, lying on the cot, staring mindlessly into that screen. It had grown unbearable. Where had Anya gone? She mentioned medication; what was taking her so long? He slowly opened his mouth, his jaw muscles strained and snapped.

“Ah…ah…nnh..aa.” Curly’s voice was strangled and hoarse like dust kicked up in an abandoned tomb. Her name barely came to him. His throat was too dry and cracked. Worse than any sore throat he’d ever experienced in his life.

It was real, not just a figment of his dark imagination, the crash. He was lying there, mangled. Probably lucky to still be alive. The captain had yet to decide if being alive was lucky. His eyelid, for sure, didn’t survive the accident. While strenuous, he could move his limbs; his bones didn’t seem to be broken. However, the elephant in the room rapidly consumed his thoughts; no matter how hard he focused, he couldn’t move his hands to grasp the sheet below his body. He attempted to ground himself; his thoughts flowed from one section of his body to the next, allowing his mind to process their existence. From his shoulders to his chest, pelvis, and down his legs. Much like his arms, the presence of his extremities vanished. His brain couldn’t recognize his ankles, much less his feet or toes.

His pulse began to hasten, and his heart pounded against his ribs. Curly spent most of his life filled to the brim, always one step away from toppling over the edge. Those moments were incomparable, child’s play. If he ever had the chance to deck his past self, he would take it. He had to move, he had to check, he had to see with his own eyes that his limbs were still there. If only he could just sit up. If only he could raise his hands to his face. They had to be there. They just had to be, even if they were in a crushed, mutilated state.

“Aah ngh, aah…nnh…ah.” Again, that’s all he could manage—a sorry excuse for the nurse’s name.

Please still be there. I need you to be there. Please, help me. Anya, help me!

His thoughts longed for her, clawed for her. Curly could hear rummaging. Items dropped to the floor, and small curses were spat in their wake. She must not have recognized that he was desperately trying to speak to her and that his words were not just pathetic cries of pain. The more he groaned, the more the nurse's actions hastened.

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” She gasped. “I’m sorry, I’m moving as fast as I can!” He heard footsteps and felt her familiar presence by his bedside. “Here, let me…roll you back towards me. I’m trying to be consistent with it. The last thing we need is for you to develop bed sores.” Curly’s head snapped towards her, his eye feverishly bulging in its socket. “Careful! Careful, please try not to move so suddenly,” Anya cried out. Curly wasn’t in the mood to heed her caution. The pain in his neck was no more torturous than the rest of him. Just to know she was there with him helped calm his racing spirit.

“Ah..Ahnnheeyuah.” Curly moaned again. He needed her to understand, hear him, and know that whatever had happened, he was still in here. For a moment, she returned his gaze, mouth agape and eyes wide.

“You…you’re trying to say my name, right?” She gasped, almost too quietly for him to hear. Anya nervously looked over her shoulder as if listening for something before turning back towards him. “I’m here. I’m not going to go anywhere.” The nurse cracked a small smile despite looking helplessly tired, and her hair was in shambles. Her eyebrows drooped, and her irises were clouded. Just from the look on her face, he knew immediately that their situation was dire. How long has it been since the ship crashed? Curly could only hope she was in the mood to talk at him. He needed to know the ship's state even if he couldn’t respond.

In the nurse’s hand was a space pouch of water with a straw jammed into it. It's likely the same one she had used earlier to calm him. Her other hand was clenched, fingers tightly folded over her palm. It must have been his so-called “medicine.” Water alone was abysmal; he tensed up at the thought of swallowing anything solid. What was a little more pain? Even a horse pill would be a tickle in comparison. His attempts to hype himself up were in vain. The captain loathed medication and was embarrassed to admit his phobia of needles, even at his age. As a child, he spent his fair share of time in hospitals and didn’t care much for their nurses either. It would be an insult to compare Anya to those witches. She had always been empathetic and professional. Anya was special.

“It won’t be comfortable to swallow lying flat like that. For the last three weeks, we had you on IV bags, which is likely how you managed to stay unconscious for so long. I can’t even imagine how much pain you are in. Unfortunately, the IVs have dried up. If only we had more. Pony Express didn’t exactly prepare us for a disaster. I’m worried about how we will manage to keep you hydrated.” Anya's eyes fluttered, and she shook her head slowly. Three weeks- that’s how long it’s been since he’s been in the land of the living. Even in pain, his mind wandered to the well-being of the rest of the crew. What had they been doing the last three weeks? What had Jimmy been doing specifically? With Curly down and out, the chain of command would naturally lead to him. He would be in charge of the captain’s duties. Did he manage to turn the ship’s distress signal on? Curly was unable to view the alarm from his position. The system that screeched in distress in an emergency was their beacon to other human life. It was impossible to tell if the mainframe was still operable without knowing the full damage inflicted on the ship.

Jimmy should be well aware of these protocols in emergency situations. But…would he even bother to flag another ship…when it was Jimmy in the first place who tried to take them all down with him? When he thought the pit in his stomach couldn’t sink any lower, the feeling of dread quickly overtook him. If there was no way he could get out of this bed, then there was no way he could save them. For all his bitching and complaining, thoughts of wanting to die, this was his chance to let it all go. However, as the prospect of death loomed over him like a thunderous cloud, he found himself clinging to life. He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want it all to end. There were so many things left he never got the chance to do. Whether he deserved the opportunity to live them or not.

But fuck him, he was in so much agony. Could this be divine punishment? It was too much to ask for comfort for himself. Maybe, just maybe, once Anya gives him those goddamn pills, he’ll be able to gather his bearings. Speak to her. Even if he could not get up, he could tell them what to do if there was anything left to do.

“I’m going to try to lift you a little. It would be much easier to swallow if we could get you up far enough on your elbows. It’s impossible to know how much you can or should move. But if you don’t move, you might never be able to again. I…I just don’t know what else to do.” Anya’s voice cut through the cloud of his thoughts. Sit up. Curly just had to will himself to sit up.

Anya slid the pills into the pocket of her coveralls, snatched the water pouch with her teeth, and stepped towards him. She hesitated momentarily but then methodically crammed her arm under his neck and grasped his shoulder. Even a delicate touch such as that was like dragging his naked flesh across gravel and pavement. Curly felt his body wince, and he yelped.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry. I’m trying to help you.” Anya cried. Her eyes watered as she held back sniffles. His condition was severely distressing to her. That was understandable; he felt the same. He couldn’t even picture what he must look like to her. Curly knew for sure his eyelids were destroyed, and he started to suspect that his lips were gone…and if his lips were gone…he shuddered and pushed away the thought of the state of the rest of his face. There was no way he could be pleasant. Through her teeth, she spoke to him, “Alright, on the count of three, try pushing yourself forward. Fortunately for you, you are a big man; unfortunately for me, you haven’t atrophied to a point where I can lift you on your own.” She attempted to crack a smile at her joke. The captain didn’t find it particularly funny, but she was admirable enough to try.

“Here we go, one…two…three!” With all the force she could muster, she pushed on his shoulders. He wailed in agony as he was raised, but Anya didn’t flinch and remained steadfast. Curly’s abdominal muscles screamed as he lurched forward; his arms weren’t much use to him, but he was sitting with their combined efforts. His ears rang, and his breath was heavy; he couldn’t believe he had lost so much that sitting was too much to bear. It was as if his backside sat on a hot iron as it struggled to hold his weight. Curly wanted nothing more than to lie back down after all the effort and desire to sit up.

In a mere second, Anya was no longer grasping his shoulder; she was behind him, supporting his back with her body. Her left arm was securely wrapped around him in a tight hug, and the pouch of water was in her hand. It was horribly uncomfortable, but he welcomed the distraction of her proximity. She’s never been this close before. Short gasps caressed the back of his neck, and her hair gently brushed against the side of his face, cushioned by the wrappings around his head. He could vaguely make out the cloth in the corner of his vision as he strained his uncovered eye to look at her. The first detail he noticed was that Anya’s hair danced across her face, caused by his harsh mouth breathing, which made him self-consciously aware of it. His breath must have been foul. What were the chances that Anya considered brushing his teeth in the last three weeks? How could he have fallen so far that he was in desperate need of someone else to attend to his hygiene? Curly’s jaw seized up as all his mental energy was suddenly allocated to breathing through his nose. His raddled exhale was pinched, and he could feel the drainage seep from it, burning his raw face. Bandages were wrapped around his nose, hindering his ability to breathe through it. They were an adequate tissue, but disgustingly pressed up against his face. He didn’t have high hopes for the state of his nose either, but was grateful he wasn’t more of a slobbering mess in front of her. The thought of her wiping his face like a small child mortified him. Both options were terrible, but he had to keep breathing, so he switched back to being a mouth breather. Even the drool that ran down his chin from being unable to close his mouth was less humiliating, especially with her face so close to his.

“You have an infection in your nose.” She responded to his thoughts. “Without the proper antibiotics, I’ve been praying it would go away on its own. You’ve been breathing through your mouth this entire time. Which isn’t helping your ability to talk.” Anya shifted closer, and he could feel her chest pressed into his exposed shoulder blades as her elbow cinched him tighter. Her forlorn stare drilled into him, and his eye darted from her hand with the water pouch and back to her again. “Let’s get this over with. I won’t even bother to act like this hurts me, just as much as it will hurt you. It’s not going to be pleasant, but we are going to get through it together.” She faintly smiled at him before she groped at the pocket of her coveralls, wiping the blood from her hand—his Blood. Curly gulped nervously, thankful for every sliver of saliva in his throat. How could it be worse than every nerve ending in his body firing off at once? “We’ve been rationing water since the crash, but don’t worry. I’ve saved this just for you. To make it easier, "she added, attempting to feign confidence, but the trembling of her voice betrayed her intentions. The nurse was so afraid to give him the painkiller, and he couldn’t fathom why. In her right hand appeared a single pill, and he saw how unsteady she was. Anya closed her eyes and sighed, giving herself one last moment before taking the plunge. Even in his maimed state, desperately in need of the pill in her hand, Curly longed to wrap his arms around her and comfort her. He could handle the pain. No matter his reaction, it wasn’t her fault. It was a foolish thought; if he could manage that level of movement by some miracle, he would only terrify her, not ease her. “Ready?”

“Eeuyshh.” He sputtered and did his best to nod. The nurse’s shoulders slackened in reaction.

It’s okay, Anya, you’re doing a great job. He strained as if he could will his thoughts into her mind.

“Thank you. I don’t want to do anything you aren’t comfortable with.” Anya’s lips twitched. “Should we count it down again?” Curly responded with an audible huff and a gravelly sigh before dramatically tilting forward. If it were possible for him to poke fun at her poor attempts at stalling, he would. “Don’t sass me. I mean it!” He whipped back towards her. Anya is a mind reader. Scary, he’ll have to be more careful. “Alright, you’re right. I’m just making it worse. Try not to move too much.”

The nurse raised her slim fingers towards him, and instinctively, he opened his mouth for her. She carefully slid the capsule over his teeth and placed it on his tongue. Despite the saliva streaming down his chin, his tongue felt like cracked desert plates—a teaser for what was to come. He could feel Anya shift and readjust herself behind him. Tenderly, she slid the arm that held him closer to his face, bringing the water pouch back into view. There was a light tap on his teeth from the straw as if it were timidly asking for permission. Curly couldn’t help but notice that the more he strained to move, the more his body refused to cooperate. It was all too much, but he was close to the respite. His lower jaw convulsed as he moved forward to accept the invitation, and he bit down violently on the straw. It had locked up tight over the piece of plastic, damning it. Without any control over his muscles, he whimpered in distress. So close, yet so far.

“Shit.” Anya hissed. “Hold on.” With the thumb and forefinger on her free hand, Anya caressed his lower jaw, gently massaging his cheek with the thumb. It didn’t feel particularly good, and he formed a fear of biting her for her efforts. Despite that, his jaw loosened slightly, just enough for water to pass through. During their laborious struggle, the pill had already begun to dissolve in his mouth, causing him to grimace, but he hoped it would be easier to get down that way.

The first sip of lukewarm plastic-flavored water was euphoric. Before that moment, he hadn’t realized how dehydrated he was. His body greedily yearned for the rest as his very life depended on it. That familiar taste was repulsive, but he inhaled it like a starved animal to the point of choking. The wounded man was filled with such feverish pleasure on the life-giving subsistence that he barely noticed the strangulating pain of the capsule sliding down his throat. As the nurse pulled the drained pouch from his mouth, he felt dejected even as he sputtered and gagged for the air he denied himself. He needed more water. If only he could use his words to beg for it. Despite the tinge of shame for demanding more of what had to be a limited reserve, his body and mind ached for it.

“You handled that like a champion,” Anya said with a smile. She looked rather pleased with the results. Curly careened his head back towards the woman, longing in his eyes, but she swiftly glanced away and subtly shook her head. He was disappointed but not surprised. It was to be expected. “As I’m sure you figured, we unanimously agreed to ration our supplies the best we can. We are hoping to spread them out farther than the expected trip…” She disheartenedly sighed. “I think Jimmy has silently decided by himself that we will be found eventually, and we just have to sit tight for a rescue…but well…I’m not so optimistic about his plan.”

That was the answer to his greatest fears. That Jimmy would do nothing. He knew better than any of them that rescue was next to impossible, even if Pony Express had immediately started looking. Their trajectory was so far off course that they wouldn’t even know where to begin to look without a sign. Jimmy made sure of that. There is no bumper-to-bumper traffic in space.

“Ah, I’m sorry for getting off-topic. Don’t panic just yet; for one reason or another, we did decide to keep you alive, which requires providing for you. You were considered in our rationing…I’m just concerned it won’t be enough. It will take a lot of energy to recover as you are now.” Anya stated, her eyes clouded and lost in thought. “Sorry, but I’ll have to lay you back down. I have to figure out what you can eat.” Anya shifted, grasped his shoulders again with a sigh, and mumbled to herself. “I’ll have to wipe you down again…maybe it’ll be easier when you are awake.” He could tell that the gears were turning in her mind as she made a mental checklist of her duties. Those duties include taking care of his basic needs. Guilt swelled in his chest, but the pain in his limbs argued against it.

To get up on his own was realistically impossible, and he had no choice but to focus on healing before acting out a grandiose plan. It didn’t even cross his mind to give his body a once-over while he was up, but before being given the chance to look, he was already lowered back down onto the cot. Anya had already slipped off without him noticing. Curly groaned in protest, but there was no going back. She continued to mutter to herself, including hissed curses about the blood on her uniform. With a shrug, she cleaned her hands of more blood on her coveralls. They were done for. She must have, without thinking, raised her hand to her lips and chewed on what remained of her thumb's fingernail. It was the current victim of her stress. After she tasted the iron under her nail, she quickly retracted her hand with a grimace.

He let out a hiss of a whine like an animal, impatiently calling out for her attention again. The pathetic call snapped her out of her deliberations. Anya looked exhausted and struggled to smile. She reached for her mouth again but thought better of it.

“Sorry, I know you’d rather be sitting, but I’m not exactly qualified to be a full-time chair.” The corners of her mouth twitched, and he winced. Did he annoy her? He must have pushed too far; it’s not what he meant to convey. It was not like he could pronounce anything well enough to clarify. Curly just couldn’t stand putting off the bad news any longer. Anya must have been trying to avoid divulging the full extent of the damage done to his body. How could he possibly tell her it was doing him more harm than good?

“Hahhndss….eetsk..EETSK! Haah..Haahh..” Curly gasped, squirming on the cot. The oxycodone couldn’t kick in fast enough, and his inability to speak was driving him mad. He could feel tears well up in his eye from the frustration. That didn’t even sound like words!

The nurse stared at him for what felt like a good thirty seconds before responding. Her eyes darted back and forth from him to the other side of the room. Eyes squinted in deep thought. “Eat?...soon, I’ll bring you something soon. That’s next on my list. Hold tight.”

No! That wasn’t even close!

Curly let out a banshee of a rattle that echoed throughout the room and smacked at the cot. Anya yelped and jumped back several feet. For good measure, she stumbled and fell into the door.

“UCK!....UCCK!” Curly screamed until he coughed again. FUCK! That’s what he was trying to say. FUCK! He knew his response was immature, but given his incapacity to communicate, he didn’t care. The man was indignant, and despite her best efforts, he wanted her to understand that. It was impossible to convey that his frustrations weren’t directed at her. God knew Anya had every right to abandon him in this bed and take pleasure in his screams, but she didn’t. She stood there silently, allowing him to feel that anger and resentment.

Too consumed by his temper tantrum, he didn’t notice her return to his bedside. A warm hand on his chest quickly silenced his screaming like a strong tether. Curly, entirely out of breath, huffed and wheezed but did his best to lock eyes with her again. The expression on her face sucked the life out of him. Anya’s lips were tightly pressed together, and her face was scrunched. Her cheeks and nose were flushed. It was apparent that she was taking great care to control her breathing, but the reflections in her eyes gave way, and tears trickled down her face.

Curly had crushed her again. He made a personal promise never to make her cry again, and like all bad habits, he relapsed again so soon. Anya didn’t owe him her time. She didn’t deserve to listen to him wail, but here she remained by his side. She did her best to comfort him when he couldn’t be bothered to do the same for her. He had used his status as an excuse, a barrier to separate himself from her feelings, when it was most convenient. But he never shied away from treating her like an armchair therapist. Every time he bitched and complained, she was there to listen to his sob story patiently. Curly wanted to be punished by her, abandoned in the same way he abandoned her. Instead, she slowly kneeled on the ground, her hand gently caressing his chest as she pressed her face into the bloodied mattress. The cushion muffled her sobs.

You ungrateful piece of shit.

“Saaah aarrr eee.” Curly hissed. He couldn't make out much more than the top of her head. Her disheveled hair was strewn out across the mattress and vibrated with her cries. Some of the locks blanketed his shoulder and stuck to his reddened flesh. It was no use; she no longer listened to his voice, but he repeated the sounds over and over despite himself.

Sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.

Meaningless.

A parade of hastened footsteps could be heard making their way down the hall, breaking up their moment. Anya returned to her feet as if the sound reset her like a mechanical doll. Eyes lowered, she desperately scrubbed the tears from her cheeks and, in the process, smeared more blood across her face. With a gasp, she stared into her bloody, shaky hands. For a moment, it was hard to tell if she was breathing or if the footsteps stole the air from her lungs.

The door to the medical room slammed open, and the woman’s shoulders jerked, but she didn’t turn to look at the man standing at the door. She continued to wipe the blood from her face, desperately trying to appear presentable.

“What the hell was that? That screaming? Is Curls finally awake?” The voice was gruff and wretched. Curly knew that voice better than anyone. The voice of that child crying in the darkness. Jimmy. Memories of his friend squatting in the hall flooded his memories. Another dream that had come true. His initial reaction was one of rage at what Jimmy had done, but he thought better of acting on those emotions. Jimmy also looked worn and exhausted, with crevasses under his eyes and protruding cheekbones. Thin, despite it being only three weeks. His hair hung in greasy brown mats in front of his face. His beard was unkempt and patchy. It wouldn’t surprise Curly if Jimmy had been pulling it out. Something he was also known to do when he was stressed. Anya looked to have just showered in comparison, even covered in blood. The crash must have extended the depressive phase. It wasn’t uncommon for Jimmy to fail to groom himself during those periods. Curly followed the frumpy man with his eyes from his face down to his hands. Jimmy’s hands were bandaged in bloody wraps. If only Curly could ask what had happened, but like his own injuries, those questions remained unanswered.

The painkillers were slowly starting to kick in, allowing him to lie silently and still on the cot. For a moment, the only sound in the room was the low hum of Anya’s radio and the captain’s choppy breath. The tension was oppressive and stifling.

“Anya?” Hearing Jimmy call to her, the nurse slowly rotates on an axis to look toward him. “What the hell, Anya, you're filthy. What have you been doing? Rolling on him like a dog on a dead carcass?” Her bloody hand flew back to her mouth and uncaringly chewed on the tip of her finger.

“Give me a moment.” She murmured.

“Don’t tell me you’re too slow to handle a few questions. Nurse.” Jimmy cocked his head and broke into a smirk. Curly could strangle him if he were in a position to get up. Anya, not taking the bait, just quickly shook her head.

“He’s awake, Jim. You didn’t mishear; he was screaming out in pain.” She stated, lowering her hand to her chest with an exhale. He totally wasn’t in pain anymore; he felt pretty well, actually. Thank you for asking. Curly felt an aggressive need for Jimmy to come to his side so he could screech at him, too. Maybe if he were loud enough, he could witness the greasy man falling on his ass, and if the captain were lucky, his good friend would scream as he hit the ground. “Aaand…I’m covered in blood because I lifted him to give him a painkiller for comfort. He shouldn't scream much as long as he’s on a schedule.”

“You lifted him? Why? Can’t he just take it lying down?” Jimmy spat as he stomped over to Curly’s cot next to Anya before peering down at the flayed mess of a man. Curly was taken aback by the man’s expression. Despite his insistent questioning, his face wasn’t folded in anger or disgust. Jimmy's eyes were wide, and they jittered back and forth between him and Anya. His lips were downturned, and the white of his teeth peeked between them. The captain could swear he saw fear in his eyes.

“Well, yes, he can…but it’s far more comfortable that way, and it tests his range of motion. If there is any chance of him recovering, he needs to keep moving. His muscle mass has already begun to atrophy.” Curiously, Jimmy studied Curly’s limp body on the cot like a science class specimen. His eyes ran up and down the broken man’s body as if he were taking note of every laceration and scab. Lying there on the cot, Curly had never felt more naked in his life. He knew he wore a hospital gown, but couldn’t have been in much else. There was an ever-present chill on his arms and legs. He wasn’t wearing pants, and those stupid gowns were never all that long. Blast it. The gown barely covered his crotch, and whatever meager bandages he had been wrapped in were absent from his nether regions. He was one brush away from being fully exposed to them. Curly dismayed, realized at that moment that one or all of them had already viewed him ass naked. Multiple times, in fact. Which one of them has been cleaning him off this entire time??? Just because he had been knocked out didn’t mean his body stopped…stopped functioning in NORMAL human body ways. The thought of either of them wiping his ass mortified him, and he started to squirm. Instinctually, he closed his legs the best he could.

It felt wrong. Spacious and swore. The familiar weight between his legs was noticeably missing. He clamped his legs tighter, but a sharp pain caused him to recoil. What had she done to him? Curly let out a small whimper in distress, but neither acknowledged it.

“Did you hear that, Curls? The girl says you're wasting away. That sucks, especially after all the hard work you put into being the size of a barn. Look at it this way, pal, at least you have a lot to lose. Hell, you and Swansea will probably outlive the rest of us!” Jimmy exclaimed with a gaudy laugh. His words were loud, with a false enthusiasm that dripped with sarcasm. Anya shuddered at his statement, rolled her eyes as quietly as possible, and coughed to draw the ragged man’s attention back to her. “Careful doing that shit around him. Are you TRYING to kill him?”

Jimmy’s tone of voice was surprisingly sincere. If only Curly could rake his brain to figure out what Jimmy was thinking. Even when they fought, the captain had convinced himself that he and Jimmy did, in fact, like each other. His joke was similar to Anya’s and was no more or less unfunny, but something about it stung in comparison. Curly was unable to fight the incongruence he felt. Despite knowing Jimmy tried to kill them all in one go, and that did piss him off, he couldn’t accept the idea of Jimmy hating him either. They’ve known each other their entire lives. Was his spite so severe that it destroyed everything they had? Maybe it was satisfying for Jimmy to cast a shadow over him for once. Curly wouldn’t blame him for that, either. He had no right to patronize Jimmy the way he did. Jimmy had just as much right to be angry with him.

“Sorry, my throat is just SO…SO dry. Not enough water to go around and all that.” Anya tapped her chest with her fist to emphasize her struggle and grimaced. It seemed to Curly that she just might have been lying. Everything about her since Jimmy entered the room was odd. It was almost as if she were nervous about how she carried herself. Well, of course, she was anxious, you idiot…Jimmy…he… assaulted her. No, that’s not right. He didn’t just assault her…he raped her. Curly repeatedly said it to himself until he could feel the bile in his throat. The thought of Jimmy on top of her ran his blood cold and made him sick.

It was then that he felt an overwhelming sense of emptiness. So empty, in fact, that even the water hitting his stomach was too much for it, and he began to heave. Jimmy and Anya’s attention was immediately on Curly again.

“W-what’s happening? What’s he doing?” Jimmy stammered. The smug look on his face had vanished, and his arms were tightly pinned to his sides, hands clenched. The terror of drowning in his stomach acid kept Curly from feeling any delight from his friend’s panic.

“He’s throwing up,” Anya said calmly, lowering herself over him again to turn his head to the side. The twist was painful despite the effects of the opioid, but he was grateful to throw up on the side of the cot. It wasn’t anything but fluid. The vile liquid that had given him relief just moments ago. Every passing moment was just another example of how worthless he had to become. The solution was so simple, but in his time of need, he couldn’t perform. Curly no longer felt frustrated, but existential dread welled inside him. His previous plan of somehow assisting them in their rescue was quickly flushed down the toilet like all of his other shitty ideas. “I shouldn’t have let him drink it so quickly. His body will take time to get used to ingesting anything again.” She tenderly rotated his head again towards the ceiling. The smell was nauseating, and he feared losing the rest of it. It was too precious to waste. However, the ever-reliable Anya was always two steps ahead. She was already scrubbing the sheets off with alcohol. “It was more than likely in combination with the opioid, but I had no choice but to give it to him. He was in so much pain, Jim. He’s calmed down so much since then; it must have been effective despite throwing up the water.”

“...How much water did you give him then?” Jimmy snapped. He asked so many questions. It was annoying, despite the legitimacy of what he asked. It’s how he asked it. Curly questioned if that’s how Jimmy talked to him. It must have been, and he must have buried it deep inside.

“An entire packet.” She responded sheepishly. “It wasn’t my intention, but I felt so sorry for him that I didn’t have the heart to take it away.”

“WELL, half of it is now in his sheets. God DAMN it, Anya! We don’t have enough shit to waste it like that!” Jimmy barked. He hadn’t yet reached the point of yelling, but his arms, which were once pinned to his side, were waved in front of the nurse in a threatening manner. Curly flashed back to the worst birthday party of his life. Jimmy had yelled at him then, too. He remembered feeling like Jimmy was his father. Not that his actual father was prone to yell at him for fucking up that badly. The only instance Curly could remember was when he broke the news to him that he had dropped out of college. Two very different situations, but the feeling of complete and total failure was the same. He didn’t want Anya to feel that way; she never deserved to.

“I know, I know, I’ll make up for it.” She swiftly said.

“How?” Jimmy snapped.

“I’ll cut my ration in half for the day.” She resolved herself to it.

“Anya…” Jimmy sighed. “What good will that do anyone? We can’t have you dying on us, either. Of the two of you, we NEED you.” It was true; what use was their fallen captain to them now? He had just as much of a chance to properly speak to them as there was for another ship to collide with them accidentally.

“I know, I know, Jim. It’s just that we all agreed to keep Curly alive, and I’m not saying this because I don’t think you are an intelligent man…but Jim, look at him. If he has any chance in hell, he’s going to need more than his fair share.” The nurse protested. She glanced back down at the man on the cot and back to Jimmy again. “If you don’t mind…could we have this conversation elsewhere?”

“Why?” Jimmy briskly asked. Curly noticed that Jimmy started to play with the bandages on his hands. The lanky man must have been raring to give his hands a once-over. They didn't stand a chance, given whatever he had done to his hands, considering his old habits.

“Jim, we talked about the picking.” Anya quickly jumped in.

“Nurse Anya, don’t change the subject.” Jimmy sighed as he slowly began to scratch at his left hand.

“They are just going to get infected.” She didn’t back down.

“I KNOW, I know, let me have this.” He winced, which shocked Curly that he would devolve so quickly to such childish protests.

“I can’t, Jim. When was the last time you looked in a mirror? If not your hands, it’s your face. The last thing you want to die from out here is septic shock. You’ll be laid out on the other cot next to your friend. Pony Express didn’t consider antibiotics a necessity. We have to be careful.” The Nurse lectured to the grown man. Jimmy looked almost sheepish for a moment before looking angry again. Either way, his hands flew away from each other.

“I don’t want the rest of the crew to hear us either. I don’t want to freak them out. Is the door far enough away for his majesty?” Jimmy quickly changed the subject. By the look on her face, Anya didn’t agree with his request, but proceeded to the door anyway. Jimmy was not long behind her. Curly obsessed over the placement of Jimmy’s hands. Daring Jimmy to touch her as if Curly had the means to leap out of the bed and throttle him. What Jimmy was was too close, but despite that, he never touched her. Curly imagined she probably felt his breath on her face in the same manner that she felt his. Jimmy’s breath was perhaps just as vile. Anya was being led around on a rope by two bums this entire time.

While at the door, the two of them attempted to whisper, but their voices rose and fell like a crashing wave. Curly strained to listen. It wasn’t polite to keep secrets about the Captain from the Captain. He couldn’t see them very well, even with a slight turn of his head.

“So, how sentient is he?” Jimmy started, leaning back into the door frame.

“What?” Anya asked.

“Don't be stupid, woman. Is Curls a vegetable or not?” Jimmy spat.

“Ah...” She paused. “I’m not sure. He’s been delirious since he woke up. Sometimes, I think he’s saying something. Other times, I think I must be going crazy. But he accepted the water easily enough. I want to believe he’s still in there.” Anya must be lying; she had to be. He followed her instructions, and she knew he was speaking her name. She chose her words purposefully. No matter the cost, there was information that had to be kept from the other man. Even if Curly had the capability to speak, it would still be his word against Jimmy’s, and right now, Curly looked guilty lying there in his condition.

“I see…” Jimmy was quiet for a moment.

“He’s in there, I promise.” Anya almost sounded like she was comforting him.

“Gah, it doesn’t matter! He just has to live so we can throw him at the authorities. Bastard tried to kill us all, and it’s the least he deserves.” Jimmy growled.

“Jim…” She said his name delicately.

“What? You have a problem with that?” He spat back.

“No…no, Jim, you’re right.” Anya sighed. “It’s better off if he lacked the cognitive functioning to understand what happened to him. It’s mercy...”

Don’t say that! You can’t mean that.

Curly had to know, and he couldn’t put it off any longer. It was his right to know, and now it was clear that Anya had no intention of sharing this with him. That wasn’t fair. He couldn’t continue like this.

“It’s not out of pity… Nurse.” Jimmy retorted.

He started with his right arm, the important one. The movement ripped and tore at the fibers of the muscles in his shoulder, but filled with the soothing relief of opioids, he could manage. At this point, his eye was so dry his vision blurred, but it was enough to make out shapes.

“I know, I know.” She whispered.

“It’s best to remember how dire our situation is and who put us here.”

The captain held his breath as the blur of his wrist entered his line of sight, and what a sight it was. At first, he couldn’t even begin to comprehend what he was looking at. It was so horrific it was foreign to him. He had been skinned! His very flesh had melted away! Curly eyed his wrist for an obscene amount of time as he desperately grasped its reality. He doesn’t remember if he started breathing again or not.

My hand’s gone.

“You’re right, Captain. I’m sorry. Sometimes, as a woman, I get irrational ideas..”

“At least we’ve come to an understanding.”

Curly proceeded to inspect his body. One piece at a time. His left arm fared worse. It didn’t extend much past his elbow. He just stared at them for a moment as they hovered over his face. The shorter arm was worthless. No wonder it was such a struggle to sit up. He’s unbalanced because the universe couldn’t even grant him the compassion of symmetry. His arms shook viciously from the strain, and he allowed them to fall with a thud. The remaining scraps of his left arm rested on his chest while the nub of his right prodded at his face. It wasn’t nearly as efficient with detecting details as a hand, but he jerked with surprise when it landed on his teeth. Even through the wraps, it was confirmed that his mouth was wide open and defenseless. The charred man didn’t dare scratch out his exposed eye and opted to scan for his nose and covered eye instead.

“Well, now that he’s awake, what’s your plan for keeping him in this hellhole?” Curly could make out Jimmy’s voice again from the other side of the room.

“The same for the most part. I will have to feed him and give him water on my own. Feeding him was next on my to-do list. There wasn’t much I could do for him while he was out cold. The hunger is certainly hitting him hard.” Anya’s voice chipped in methodically. It was true. Curly was absolutely famished. He hadn’t noticed it before, as being in agony took precedence over the sting in his gut.

“I know we still have soup left.” Jimmy offered, and after a pause of possible surprise, Anya responded.

“While we have it, it will be the easiest thing for him to get down. Chewing without losing everything will be challenging for him.” She sighed.

“I bet if you asked Swansea, he probably has a funnel somewhere!” Jimmy laughed.

“You’re quite the jokester, aren’t you, Captain?” Anya feigned laughter.

“You know it.” He said smugly.

No nose…his nose was confirmed gone, nothing remaining but his exposed sinuses under a piece of sheer fabric. With as little effort as possible, Curly rolled his nub to his covered eye socket. It was deep, empty. Anya didn’t remove the bandages because there wasn’t anything left to expose.

That was when reality caved in on him.

His breath quickened, and he could hear his heartbeat as if it were the only sound in the room.

I can’t breathe.

Help.

“As long as I can get a clear shot down his throat, I can probably do it while he’s lying down…buuut if you had it in your BIG heart to help me. It would be easier if he were sitting up again.” Anya cooed, but Jimmy only grumbled. “Wouldn’t want to waste any of our precious resources.”

“Well, he better learn to get it down the first time, or he’ll not get any more,” Jimmy grumbled.

“Jim…he has to eat to live. We don’t know how long we are going to be here.” Anya insisted, and Jimmy just let out a sigh.

“Get Daisuke to do it, I’m busy.”

Anya, help me!

Every molecule in the captain's body screamed at him. They shouted at him that if he didn’t get up, his throat would collapse, and he would die. Unlike all the panic attacks he’s survived in the past, he knew he wouldn’t live through this one. His dilapidated, pathetic excuse of a mangled body wouldn’t be able to handle the strain. Curly had to get up.

Anya, help! Please, Anya, please.

“I don’t want to traumatize him. Just being in this room with him is a lot. I don’t think Daisuke has been in here since the crash.” Anya continued the conversation.

He careened his face towards the door. His two crewmates looked to be firmly planted in place and fully immersed in their current conversation. Curly tried to scream to get their attention, but all that escaped was a choked gasp and a soft moan—nothing either of them would take for more than him babbling on like a senseless invalid. Curly could feel the tips of what remained of his arms start to go numb and tingle. It was happening, and he couldn’t stop it. Not without help. He was worthless! Just a giant baby who relied solely on the two adults in the corner.

I have to get up or I’m going to die!

“It’ll be good for the kid. Toughen him up a bit.” Jimmy fought.

Curly knew he was a pathetic nuisance and better off dead. If he were dead, Anya would never have to throw her back out again to lift him or wipe vomit off his face. But he was selfish. Wasn’t everyone selfish? Didn’t everyone want to live? He wanted to live—more than anything. Ever so slowly, he started to shift his legs. They were uneven, too, but that didn’t matter. If he could manage to roll them over the side of the cot, he could use gravity and his arms to push himself up. It was possible he could sit, slumped over the edge, without falling with just enough core strength. With one swift movement, he threw his left leg over himself, twisting his torso towards the door. His breath picked up, indicating that he had already begun to hyperventilate.

“...Fine, I’ll ask. But I won’t force him. I’d rather do it myself than force him. When…if the Captain dies, I don’t want Daisuke to remember him like this.”

I’m dying. Not if, but when. I was right.

That first kick was almost too much. If not for the painkiller, he would’ve been taken out then and there. It was exhausting. He was tired, starving. His body had spent the last three weeks eating itself to live. On his right arm, Curly had a better chance. It was longer and stronger. After struggling, the polyester under his body gave way, and he awkwardly positioned his elbow under his chest. That should be enough leverage to push him up. His rapid breathing made him light-headed, and he felt the nausea creep back. He knew he was only conscious because of the adrenaline surging through his veins.

“He’s not going to die.” Jimmy spit. “You’re going to prove your worth as a medical school flunkie here and now. What better way to spite them than saving the life of a man with no skin?”

“Wow, you’re REALLY funny, Jim.” Anya placated.

With a slow convulsion, Curly pushed his body up on his elbow. He could feel the salvia as it dripped down his face and onto his forearm. The numbness in his arm had quickly traveled up into his shoulder and, combined with his frailty, was a threat to his life. It was all over if he were to faceplant on the floor—nothing left of him but a bug splattered on a windshield. One last push is all it would take. His breath caught, and he shoved off.

“Flatter me anymore, Anya, and I might just have to change my mind about you.” Jimmy chuckled and finally moved his gaze from the woman and back to the captain, just in time to watch the captain’s flight. Bugged-eyed and shocked, Jimmy shoved at Anya’s shoulder. She was visibly angered by the physical tap but turned just in time to witness Curly’s arc. He was up and sitting, but for no more than a brief moment. The captain’s arms flailed wildly out of desperation to balance himself. Their screams of surprise and distress bounced off the walls of the medical room, and simultaneously, the two at the door began their rough sprint towards him.

Curly couldn’t do it. He couldn’t sit on his own. He had no hands to grasp the sides of the cot, and his core strength had failed him. There was an attempt to balance himself with the base of his wrist, but that, too, ended in agony. The exposed bone couldn’t handle the pressure and was akin to a raw nerve. It was alarming how exhausted he was from the first sit-up, and his groin was on fire. The friction had agitated the stitches. Every part of him was raw, and there was no way to concentrate on one distress at a time. Curly was still convinced he wasn’t breathing despite the numbness in his limbs, signaling a clear sign that oxygen was reaching his blood. It was all overwhelming, and he begged for the stimulation to stop. Gravity had taken effect, and he slumped towards the floor, and he couldn’t see.

However, the impact never materialized; instead, a new sensation emerged. Equally as uncomfortable but warm. Jimmy made it in time. His arms were shoved under Curly’s armpits and were wrapped around his back in a death grip. The co-pilot lacked a sense of delicacy, and he dug violently into his flesh. His breath was short and rapid, mimicking the captain’s panic attack. Anya was by his side. Her gentle hands brushed his shoulder, and she had broken into a sweat, but a great sense of relief splashed across her face. While Jimmy was distracted, Anya discreetly adjusted the bottom of Curly’s gown to drape between his thighs. She knew, of course, she knew, but was kind enough to protect his dignity. The poorly groomed man’s face was pressed up against Curly’s cheek and, consequently, his exposed teeth. Jimmy’s patchy beard, caught in several stages of growth, pricked his tender muscle, and to Curly’s relief, his breath was horrendous. At the very least, in that regard, they were even. Jimmy was intent on staring at the sunset screen behind them rather than looking at his friend’s face.

Somehow, for some reason, the gesture had a calming effect on the injured man. Despite his gripes and insults, he still saved his life when it came down to it. Curly’s heartbeat began to stabilize, and his breathing slowed. Without a thought, Curly wrapped the remainder of his arms around Jimmy’s lower back and allowed his weight to press into the other man's shoulder.

“Holy SHIT Anya. I didn’t think he could do that!” Jimmy wheezed.

“Don’t yell at me, I didn't either.” Anya matched the man’s energy. “It must be adrenaline. There’s no way he could have powered through the pain without it.”

“W-what do I do? He’s got hold of me. Should I lay him back down?” Jimmy’s question set Curly on high alert. It took a great deal of effort to get up. He couldn’t handle the devastation of being strapped to that cot again. Not this soon. Not yet. Please.

It will kill me.

“Naahhooouu…Jiiihneey. Leeease.” Curly gasped, and his grip tightened around Jimmy’s waist. He could feel his friend seize up. Curly couldn’t see his expression, but he could imagine it. Surprise? That this vegetable could audibly respond? But that might just be wishful thinking. His words could sound like anything. They weren’t much more than squealing groans. The silence evolved into anxious whimpers, followed by nervous laughter behind his ear.

“That almost sounds like he’s talking.” Jimmy wheezed and continued into a shower of giggles. “Could’ve sworn he said my name.” Anya didn’t respond. Curly could catch a glimpse of her face. She seemed unsure of how to respond.

“Cahuntsk…ruheeethuh. Helluh… nee.” There is no substitute for “B” or “P”. He might as well have been cursing at the two of them. Curly’s whimpers were caught in his throat, and his vision blurred. Without his eyelid, he couldn’t bat away the tears that started to form not just out of frustration but out of total defeat. He couldn’t have felt more fucked. They didn’t respond. His crew held their breath in anticipation of his speaking again. “Scaruuurd.” Scared. That’s all he could think to say. It was the easiest thing to say, without his lips to convey his feelings.

“Scared,” Anya repeated. “He’s saying he’s scared. He must have been panicking and couldn’t breathe.” She got it this time. Thank you, Anya.

“Oh Fuck. Anya. Anya, I think he’s in there!” Jimmy shouted. His face finally pulled into view. The man’s eyes darted from Anya’s to Curly’s, but he only momentarily maintained eye contact with the captain. Jimmy couldn’t stand the look of him, and Curly didn’t blame him. He wasn’t looking forward to seeing himself either. Curly knew he had to look like a ghoul. He wished he were blind.

“I’d say so…” she said in a matter-of-fact tone. Anya already knew, and he blew her cover.

“What do I do now? I can’t just stay like this.” Jimmy whined, and Curly could feel him reposition his back end. He just now noticed the arch in Jimmy’s back as he held him. There was no way he could keep up that position for long.

“I know the two of you are just the best of friends, but you probably don’t have to hug him to keep him up like that. Just hold him at his side while I scrub the bed. I haven’t been able to do it adequately in the last three weeks. This is the perfect opportunity.” Anya held her forefinger to her lips and carried a slight bounce in her step as she made her way to the cabinets behind her nurse's desk. It was rather cute. Jimmy’s face soured, and he grumbled slightly at her suggestion. Their faces were so close together, and Jimmy acted as if anything and everything were more interesting. He acted as if the awkward silence between them was more comfortable than coordinating their following action. Curly feared that Jimmy would drop him back on the cot at any moment to avoid acknowledging his persistent humanity.

“Let go… I can’t move if you don’t let go.” Jimmy grumbled without looking at him. They had officially initiated the ultimate trust exercise, and Curly had no good reason to trust his friend. Jimmy had already attempted to kill them all once, but the worst he could do now was drop him to safety. Far too much effort was made to keep him from kissing the floor. With no other choice, the captain loosened his grip and slowly pulled his arms back to his sides. In their wake, he left a nice blood trail on Jimmy’s frumpy coveralls. Jimmy let out a low, disgusted complaint. It would be a long time before they would have a chance to shower or wash their clothes. If Curly had the strength, he would apologize for the mess he left whenever he grazed anything, even though it was the other man’s fault they were in this predicament in the first place. The shame he felt at every inconvenience he caused was unbearable, and it would just get worse.

Jimmy did as he was instructed and carefully slid to Curly’s side. He adjusted the position of his arms and threw his right arm over his friend’s burned shoulder before hastily dropping down onto the cot himself with a slight groan. Just like before, the gangly man insisted on staring at the door. Curly awkwardly glanced from the door and back to Jimmy. He held a mutual air of uneasiness. The only sounds in the room were Anya fumbling around and his mouth breathing. For heaven’s sake, it was sound, and with nothing else to concentrate on, he couldn’t help but notice how soggy his bandages over his chin had become. The drooling was uncontrollable, and Jimmy was sitting a foot away from this disaster. It wasn’t as if they could start idle small talk while they waited. No amount of Jimmy deserving this moment made it any better, as he was the victim. Curly opened his mouth to attempt a word of thanks, but unusually, Jimmy beat him to it.

“I don’t know what you’re thinking, but if you’re thinking of telling the girl it’s all my fault, reconsider. It won’t do you or the rest of the crew any good. As far as the rest of the world is concerned, it happened under you.” Jimmy had leaned in to murmur straight into his ear. “Let me fix this, and I’ll put in a good word for you. Be a good little boy; they might even let you rot in peace in a nice home for however long you have left. One look at you, and their hearts will bleed for you (no pun intended). The Captain, who couldn’t mentally handle the strain, was destroyed by his own hands and tried to take his crew down with him. It’s a tragic story indeed.” Curly bored holes into the other man, who couldn’t stomach looking at his handiwork. In some ways, it was true. For now, he would just play along. Revenge was off the table when survival was barely an option.

Curly grunted in agreement, and Jimmy bore a shaky, toothy grin.

Anya returned from the other side of the room with a grin. In her hands, she held a container of hard disinfectant wipes. Those in particular wouldn’t be very pleasant up against Curly’s nerves, and against his desires, his body winced at the sight of them. The nurse took notice and threw a small gesture of reassurance his way.

“It’ll take a moment for the solution to dry, but once it does, it won’t hurt to be laid back on it. This was your desire, right? To sit up?” She cheerfully threw his pitiful display back at him. The bloodied man told himself that wasn’t her intention. He was projecting his thoughts onto her. Her nervousness around Jimmy was understandable. This new bubbly Anya was quite odd. Her demeanor must have been out of spite towards the other man. He couldn’t break her. She wouldn’t let him. Curly followed the young woman with his eye before she left his peripheral vision again. He could hear her behind them, scrubbing away at the polyester covering of the thin mattress. It made a nerve-tensing squeak that grew louder and more rapid as she worked it. Jimmy jerked his neck and slammed his eyes shut. His free hand twitched in resistance to his desire to pick at something. Going for his face wasn’t an option unless he wished to share Anya’s fate of a face full of blood splatterings. The more she scrubbed, the more he jerked.

“Are you DONE yet?” Jimmy snapped. “That sound is infuriating!”

“Oh, is it? I haven’t noticed. I’m sorry.” She said in a high-pitched baby voice.

“I’d bar you in the cockpit if you weren’t so damn useful. Agh, why do you have to do that shit on purpose?” Jimmy aggressively grabbed his knee and twisted the fabric.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She cooed. “I’m all done. Try not to drop him, yet it’s still wet.”

“I’m not an idiot. I wouldn’t do that.” He gripped. “You’d make a killer mother, Anya. You’re very similar to my old bitch.” Anya froze. His comment hit home, whether he was referencing the pregnancy he forced on her or not. “Take him. I have more important things to do than wait for the paint to dry. You’re a big, strong girl who can handle it.” If he still had skin, Curly would be sweating buckets right now. They were doing everything in their power to provoke each other. Anya understandably had every right to want to lash out at Jimmy. Their predicament prevented her from causing any severe harm to the other man. Curly would pull them apart if he could. But it was too late to do anything—just a bystander, held captive by his old friend’s sporadic behavior.

“W-wait! I need like five more minutes! And we haven’t fed him yet!” Anya stuttered. Curly could feel the weight of her body leaning on the cot. “If you could hold him a little while longer, the cot will be ready after he’s had something to eat.”

“That’s your job, Nurse. I already told you to get Daisuke to do it.” Jimmy spat, and his grip tightened around the injured man’s shoulder, causing him to wince. Curly wanted nothing more than not to be strapped to Jimmy at that moment. The hand that reassured him seconds before transformed into a sharp, threatening blade at his neck. He couldn’t trust the co-pilot not to change his mind on a whim and shove him to the floor.

“Daisuke isn’t here right now. You can’t leave yet.” Anya persisted. The air shifted as she stomped back around the bed.

“I don’t have time to waste my day like you do, Anya. Take him. Lay him back down and feed him that way. You know he can manage. He doesn’t need you to baby him. It can’t be good to strain those abs now. Right Curls?” Jimmy smacked Curly on the stomach with his free hand. It was a light tap, but the impact caused Curly to slump over and groan.

“Don’t do that!” Anya shouted. She stood directly in front of the two men, and by the look on her face, she was enraged, her teeth bared, her arms at her sides. Her hands were tightly balled into fists. One more wrong word out of Jimmy, and the captain might get to witness those fists flying. He prayed she wouldn’t, but in the rush of the moment, it would be a satisfying revenge.

“It’s a joke, Anya!” Jimmy squeezed tighter on his shoulder, causing the poor man to whine.

“Not a good one!” She bit back.

“Do your job! I’m leaving and don’t have time to fight with you. In case you forgot, we are stranded in space, and no one is coming.” The grip on Curly’s loosened before completely giving way. The safety net of Jimmy’s arm was pulled away, and without the support, there was nothing to keep the captain upright. The excitement had worn entirely out what meager strength was left in his silo, and almost immediately, he felt his body tilt to the side. Anya cried out in surprise as Jimmy suddenly stood up, abandoning his duty to the former captain. There was nothing that Curly could do except brace for impact a second time, as falling was sure to become a recurring predicament.

The collision with the ground was intercepted again. This time it was Anya. Her arms were wrapped around his side and under his arms, with her face pressed into Curly’s chest. A slight growl flowed from her core as she glared at Jimmy, who was already halfway to the door. He hunched over and shuffled quickly to the opening. Before he left, he grabbed the frame and turned one last time to look at the two of them with a scowl. Jimmy was covered in so much blood. Curly couldn’t believe he had more blood left in him to lose. With his bloodied rags, he sluggishly wiped the red liquid from his face with as much success as Anya had before. He played the role of a murderer well. Jimmy’s appearance fit the part.

“No more games, Anya. Just make it happen.” Jimmy slid from the room. His bloody handprint was left behind on the door. For a moment, the two remaining crew members remained frozen as they listened to the footsteps as they dissipated behind the medical room door. The man must have made his way to the living area, as shouts of alarm from Daisuke could be heard. It must have been Jimmy’s intention to cause a scene with the captain’s blood as his prop for the rest of the crew.

“What a stupid ass,” Anya muttered as her form relaxed. She took special care to hold him in a strong yet tender grip as she sat up and glided into the space to the right of Curly. It was in his blind spot, and he had to turn his head again to see her. Her face was so close to his. She looked so frustrated, and the fatigue she had when he first woke up was nowhere to be seen. In its place was a new feeling: determination. “Listen…Curly. I’ve been thinking a lot about what has happened. I prayed every day you were unconscious that this wouldn’t be the end. That you’d eventually wake up.” He looked at her inquisitively. Too drained to give her a response, so he just waited patiently. “I just kept thinking about our last fight. The memory haunts me. The more I thought about it, the more it broke me down. I obsessed over all the ways it could’ve gone differently. I want to apologize…to you. I’m sorry. The last thing I ever wanted was for it to end that way.”

The captain was stunned by her statement. He wanted to tell her there was nothing in this world for which she needed to apologize. He failed her; every word of vitriol she threw at him was justified. Curly tilted his head to the side and did his best to shake it.

“Don’t look at me like that. I’m not saying you didn't deserve a good scolding. I looked up to you. It made me think I could be comfortable around you. I REALLY thought you had our best interests at heart. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that maybe you did. And that was the problem. You weren’t looking out for me but for us. I’m still angry even if I understand why…but,” Her voice trailed off as she thought carefully about her following words.

Anya, please, don’t make excuses for me. I don’t need them.

“We can talk about it later when you can actually talk back to me. When we are saved and safe back on Earth. THEN I can tell you how much you suck, and you can tell me how you’re going to spend the rest of your life making it up to me…but for now…I just want to focus on living. I don’t want to fight. I can’t take it. I’m too tired to fight.” She sighed, and her focus shifted from the door and back to him. Anya was the one who kept him sitting, but Curly could almost swear he felt her lean in. Their bodies fit together perfectly. Both were working to carry the load.

For a moment, Curly could forget that he was a horrifying monster without any extremities. He squeezed her shoulder with the crux of his arm to convey that he wanted the same. There were pools in her eyes, and for the second time, she began to cry. But these tears were different. Not exasperation but relief. What he would give to be able to wipe them from her cheeks and tell her he was going to make it all better. This time, he really would fix it. He would will himself the vigor to keep going, just long enough to see Anya rescued from this god-forsaken steel coffin.

“Oh…this is kind of awkward to say at this point, but…I know you didn’t do it. I know you didn’t crash the ship, and not because Jimmy was whispering loudly in your ear earlier.” Anya stated matter-of-factly and rolled her entire head in mockery of Jimmy, who thought himself so sly. Curly jerked back in confusion, and his jaw tensed. “You saved my life, don’t you remember?” Without waiting for an answer, Anya stood up, and with one hand on his shoulder and the other resting delicately behind his back, she slowly lowered him down on the cot. “Sorry,” she mouthed before exiting the room. It wasn’t ideal, but he accepted it. He was depleted, and the only thing that fought off another deep slumber was his ferocious desire for anything at all to eat. While he waited there patiently for her to return, he thought about what she had said.

He did remember. It happened in his dreams.

Notes:

I vocally sound out Curly's spoken dialogue, and even I sometimes forget what I intend him to say.
If that becomes a problem, especially for anyone whose first language isn't English, let me know. I'll translate it in the bottom notes. I don't want to ruin the effect by having it in the chapter itself.

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Chapter 3: Nothing But a Broken Lustful Doll

Notes:

So I completely messed up trying to make Curly's inner dialogue special in chapter 2 and promptly deleted it all. It doesn't destroy the chapter without it, but BOOO...BOO to that! It's back in now, I fixed it! SIGH SAD FACE!!!

But here we go! Welcome to chapter 3! This was the hard one, it's THAT moment, THAT chapter. It wasn't easy to must through, but overall I really enjoyed the results. Also, these chapters are long as HELL. I don't THINK the following three chapters will be nearly the same length. Only winners with that statement, it means we all get a lot faster! Hope all of you enjoy!

TW: Rape, sexual assault, self-harm

One Day Before the Crash

Anya was sitting down on the edge of the medical bay’s cot. She was unsure of what she should do. Yes, she was finally in the one room with a lock. The one that could keep her safe, but now that she was here, she was engulfed with an overwhelming need to do something. Anything. But there was nothing to do here. The nurse didn’t have a long laundry list of tasks to attend to in the first place. Her main objective was to wait on standby in case of an emergency, such as a stubbed toe or a minor cut. Maybe, on an exciting day, one of the men would come to her looking for painkillers or a dose of something more substantial to knock them out. Most of her hours were spent studying or taking practice tests, and occasionally, she would indulge in a little light reading. Anya had read most of the books aboard the Tulpar a dozen times, as her personal texts were primarily made up of educational material.

For a moment, her mind wandered back to the tablet Curly had attempted to gift her not long ago. A tiny machine with the capability to hoard an infinite amount of data. With such a thing, she could have as many books as she wanted for the entire year. The woman had refused the gift under the pretense that electronic media wasn’t to her liking and feigned offense. For the most part, she preferred the smell of paper, and it was less straining on her eyes under the fluorescent lights. However, her refusal was more than that. At the time, she wasn’t sure where she wanted to proceed with their relationship. It would have been inappropriate and a sign of favoritism on his part to accept such a luxurious item. Tablets with such immense storage were nothing to sneeze at, and to take it would have given her the burden of owing him something. Whether that was the good Captain’s intentions or not.

If anything, the Captain was too good, too simple, if his spoken intentions were to be trusted. But she worried if he had the capabilities to follow them through. From her point of view, he was a man of habit and routine, and anyone throwing a wrench into his day-to-day activities caused him much distress.

Anya wanted answers and solutions now. The wait would eventually kill her. She had to work through so many thoughts, and she wasn’t ready to deal with them. The nurse needed a distraction. Any distraction would do. Anything to keep her from dwelling on the fact that she must have ruined any chance she had with the man. The guilt and shame of accusing him of violence billowed up inside her heart. She was no longer panicking, and in its stead, the weight of her emotions threatened to crush her. It forced her to face her irrational thoughts. Embarrassing thoughts. How could she have accused any of these innocent men of acts they might have done or could do? Especially after both Curly and Daisuke had attempted to cheer her up. Blaming it on the moment's tension would be a poor justification to rationalize her tantrum. Stealing the gun as she had was foolish, and Curly had every right to tear the place apart looking for it, but he didn’t.

The gun, yes, the gun. That was something she could do. It was her intention all along to perform a jailbreak on the little lock box. Anya slid off the cot and groped the indentation of the drawer, but hesitated. She had plenty of time to figure out the code, and there was still a risk that Curly, at any second, would return. However, the shame wasn’t enough for her to return the gun to its rightful owner. She had to be patient and at least see if Curly was successful or not. Whatever success would mean in this situation. There was a slim, improbable chance that the two of them would get into a vicious fight and kill each other. The gun would serve very little use afterwards. Deep inside her was a sliver of desire, a wish that everything could go back to how it was before she caused a scene. Even tainted, pregnant with another man’s child, it would all be okay. She would have the baby, return to Earth, and turn it over to the proper authorities. It would be a dream for her and Curly to start their new lives. The suggestions they threw together in jest. They would earn degrees and secure good jobs, and never worry about space or money again. If only he would forgive her for her flippancy.

Anya slapped her cheeks with the palms of her hands. Ludicrous, ludicrous thoughts! Just moments ago, she couldn’t stand the idea of being in the same room with that hulking man, much less live with him. After what had happened to her, it would be far wiser to swear off men forever. She could spend the rest of her life afraid of what went bump in the night. A more prudent future for her would be a gated community and having someone bring her her groceries. And then what? Be a doctor over the phone, too? That’s a thing now. However, it would be impossible to avoid people forever, and that would certainly be unhealthy. She had the right to live out there in the world just as much as anyone else. No one, not even Jim, had the power to take that from her unless she let him. Still, would it be wise to place so much faith in the man who allowed it to happen? The woman shook her head. Curly didn’t release Jim into the wild to hurt her, and he didn’t sit back and watch it either. She desperately attempted to rationalize what had happened. Curly might have genuinely been blindsided by what had transpired just as much as she had been. Not everyone who was rough around the edges deserved to be treated like a criminal, as she certainly didn’t believe so until now. Just because someone is a pain in the ass doesn’t make them a monster. Without a doubt, Jim had transformed into one, even if he wasn’t before. He had crossed a line he could never step back from, and Anya prayed that the Captain would understand as well. She trusted him not to turn on her, but it would be naive not to take all the precautions she could. After all, Curly couldn’t be everywhere at once. The nurse needed that gun, and she had to steel herself to use it.

With determination, she whipped open the drawer, ignoring its resistance to her force, and dragged the lock box out. Right, the woman had already forgotten. After placing the case on the cot, she tiptoed towards the door and promptly locked it behind her. Even Curly would be forced to announce himself before she’d allow him entrance. Back on the cot, she stared apprehensively at the box in her lap, worrying about the time it would take to crack the code, even before she started. The woman dreaded the tedious nature of the task. The lock box code had been scrambled, and her first attempt was to slide each number up and down one slot as if the Captain would have made it that easy for her. To her contempt, he had not, and now she was doomed to try every single one of those combinations again, as she had not kept track. With a sigh, she reset all three numbers to zero and began her pursuit.

An hour passed, and Anya had submitted to the knowledge that she wasn’t a covert hacker. The task was excruciatingly painful and mind-numbing, and too much to ask of herself to do in one sitting. Out of frustration, she slammed the box back into its resting place as punishment for being so annoying before returning to her stoop. Curly still wasn’t back yet. What could possibly be taking him so long? All he had to do was shake a confession out of Jim, knock him out, and leave him with a concussion he would ironically never forget. There was a chance the conversation had already occurred, and he failed to report the results. She should knock him in the head if that were the case. The only way to know for sure would be to check in on him. But what if he was still in the middle of his conversation with Jim?? Nothing in this universe would be more awkward than to interrupt that altercation. There was no way for her to ascertain their location either.

But why should Anya be locked in here during the day like a prisoner? While morally wrong, the woman had done nothing criminal of the sort and had every right to free rein as the rest of them. She could always attempt to make contact with Daisuke and Swansea first to see if they had any information for her. At the very least, their presence would provide protection. Anya couldn’t imagine even Jim wanting to draw the others into his villainy. The coward would probably want to keep it on the down low as if such a thing could be hidden forever. What would the two assume once she started to show? The truth would eventually come out, whether the horrid man wanted it to or not.

The best course of action was to sit tight. Right? Barely any time had passed at all. She was being terribly impatient. But…

A Polaroid of Curly’s face appeared behind her eyes. Hard and angular. Aged and abused by the passage of time, and yet those eyes. Soft pools of blue, murky and downturned. Full of apathy and disappointment. But for that one moment, when he declared his intentions. His desire to come home with her was accompanied by something else—yearning. One that was so quickly stomped on by her mania and bitterness. Anya had stolen something so precious and delicate from the man. Something she had no right to do when she projected her rage onto him. Was it still possible for him to carry the same desires as her? Would an apology be enough? How far would it have gone if he had accepted her advances? Those intentions were malicious and cruel, and even as his body yearned for hers, that lust didn’t match the shimmer in his eyes. She could surmise the look on his face—a jumbled mix of confusion and disappointment—as she revealed how grotesque she was underneath her foundation. In an attempt to force him to reveal his sinful desires for her, all she managed was to show herself nude. She bore it all to him, the mold and the rot. The nurse was no more innocent and pure than the man who had defiled her body.

Her breath caught, and the nurse had a wild realization. What she had done was the same. Anya had forced herself upon Curly in the same way Jim had to her. Curly didn’t want it. She didn’t ask him for his permission. She had assumed that, as a man, he would want her. He’d desire her just because of what he was. Such a pain couldn’t be undone or erased. How could he possibly forgive her for what she had done? She didn’t deserve Curly’s attention, affection, or his protection. It wasn’t Curly’s job to restrain Jim or scold him. After all, Jim was right about her all along. She was horribly difficult to get along with. Demanding everything from others and giving nothing in return. Curly was her victim.

Anya was crying. When the tears started, she couldn’t say. They did nothing to dull the pain of her animosity and failures.

If only there were an easy way to end it all. The gun or maybe the stash of prescription medications in the cabinets to the side of her. But in the end, she was nothing more than a coward, just as Jim was. Death was terrifying, but an end to suffering, and she had to admit the idea tempted her.

Without another thought. The young woman rose to her feet, wiped the moisture from her cheeks, and dragged her corpse to the door. She strained to lift the lock before gliding out of the room.

Anya had all but forgotten her desire to seek out the mechanic and his intern. What had happened to her was her problem and burden to bear. It would have been selfish of the woman to involve them, especially out of a sense of obligation. Instead, she made her way to the sleeping quarters and wondered if Jim would still be there. She hoped he would be as senseless as the thought was; there might even be a chance he would commit to the threats he made against her. This time, he would even be tempted to take it all the way.

The hallway of the sleeping quarters, while illuminated by the same hollow lights as the rest of the ship, felt isolated as if it were a portal to a liminal space. It was quiet with nothing more than the hum of the electrical charge to keep her company. Without a glance, she pattered past her own room and stopped in front of Jim’s. The door rose above her like a tyrannical beast, and its gravity pulled her closer. It was stupid. There was nothing left to say to this man despite the scouring of her brain. Her entire being yelled at her, demanding she run from this room, but she didn’t. The nurse was numb. From head to toe, her whole body tingled with the thrill of danger that lay before her. With excitement, Anya took a large gulp of air, held it, grabbed the handle, and flung the door open. Her eyes pressed tightly shut as the stale air of the room blew past her.

All she was met with was silence. With a small exhale of relief, she peeled her eyes open slowly, one at a time, and glanced into the room. It was identical to hers in layout, with the bed against the wall. The state of it surprised her. It was clean and tidy. There were no clothes or garbage strewn across the floor. The desk was in order, and there was even a small bookshelf pressed up against the wall. Jim liked to read? She had never personally witnessed it, and the topic had never arisen during casual conversation. The overwhelming dread and fear of staring directly into the lion’s den was absent. It was just a room like any other and far removed from where Jim had raped her. The woman was filled with a strange disappointment when she looked towards the bed. The blankets had been thrown back as if he had left in a hurry, as the cover had slipped to the floor. It was a sign that the man’s attempt to rest had been hastily interrupted. For some reason, she found herself picturing him there. Curled up in the same ball he was in on the couch. The rage she felt at his comfort had all but been extinguished. Curly had done well on his promise, or at the very least had retrieved the man. The last thing she wanted was to run into them together. It would be degrading to walk in on that conversation. Jim would immediately discern that she had snitched to the boss.

With one last flick of the eyes around the room, Anya gently slid the door closed again and followed the wall back to her room. Her fingertips gently pressed against the brisk metal surface of the hall to ground herself until she stood in the doorway of her room. If only she had just willed herself to lie down in the bed. She could have slept off the void inside of her. Unfortunately, it was a passing notion as the woman glanced around her room. The bed, with its strawberry cover and pillowcases, which once felt like a piece of home in space, was repulsive. The woman could no longer ignore what had transpired on those innocent sheets. The essence of her assault was smeared into every pore and fiber. She wouldn’t be able to find comfort there even if that is what she desired.

Next to her bed was a standard metal nightstand with a lamp and a small mirror. Below the light was her glasses and contact case. All the crying she had been doing had left her eyes irritated, dry, and swollen from the lenses glued to her retinas. The discomfort was another indicator of her vanity. She felt like such a dork wearing her glasses and had initially chosen the large frames because they were cute on the rack. But it was so hard to give up her look without them, as if she had gone fishing in space. Why continue to wear mascara and lipstick? For her personal satisfaction, or was it for them? Jim made it clear she wasn’t cute. Was it all just a waste of time? No, that wasn’t the case; she had done it for her. It was her right to want to feel pretty even in a wasteland of apathy.

The woman’s eyes screamed to be set free, and the discomfort had grown too intolerable to ignore. Instead of freshening the lenses with solution, she snatched up the case, picked at her eyes one by one, and plopped the lenses back into the container. Quickly after, she added her glasses to her face and allowed her vision to adjust to the change. It was easier and far more comfortable to manage, even if she felt ugly in them, almost as if they made her invisible.

Chatter could be heard from the hall. Just close enough for the woman to make out that it was Curly and Daisuke. What in the world was Curly doing with the intern? Shouldn’t he still be with Jim? Jim isn’t here.

Anya stepped from her quarters and straight into the young man. Daisuke yelped in surprise and scurried to a safe distance from the woman behind Curly, who looked just as alarmed as the boy.

“Anya! What are you doing here? I thought you’d still be in the Medical Bay.” Curly choked with his hands held in front of his chest. Their presence meant nothing to her as her brain chugged to find the questions that should have been on the tip of her tongue.

“I wanted my glasses.” She said bluntly and let out a faux laugh. “It was dire. They were so fused to my eyeballs I was almost worried. What are you doing here? Why do you look so nervous…Captain?”

“Oh, AH, well. I did as I promised,” the man stammered. “I think we should continue this discussion privately…please.” Daisuke looked from the blonde man to her, a quizzical expression on his face. Curly must have kept the situation a secret, and by the goofy expression on the kid’s face, it was clear he had gotten the wrong idea.

“Ooh hoho, the Nurse and the Captain alone in a locked room? Scandalous. I promise not to tell! That HAS to be some handbook violation!” Daisuke chucked, and Curly twisted himself into a pretzel to frantically wave the idea away. The Captain was red-faced and glistening, which added fuel to the intern’s fire. His suspicions must have been true for the older man to look so flustered. It was a pleasant dream, and Daisuke was better off believing it.

“Well, it’s a good thing we won’t be working for them much longer.” Anya briefly flashed a small smile.

“Oh, right..mm, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought up a sore subject.” Daisuke twitched. He must have feared her flying off the handle as she had done earlier. The nurse was beamed in the head with guilt. Daisuke was the first victim of her hysteria and, in turn, felt the need to step lightly around her. “I won’t pry. It’s none of my business what the two of you are up to.”

“Daisuke, you don’t have to be like that. We’re friends. If this is about earlier, I shouldn’t have snapped at you. It wasn’t your fault.” She reassured him. “We just have a lot going on right now. Please, don't worry.”

“Anya?” The young man cocked his head to the side, but she answered the intern’s concern with another smile.

“So, what are the two of you doing here again?” She changed subjects. “Is there a party I wasn’t invited to in my room?”

“Nonono, nothing like that!” Daisuke stammered. “Curly asked if—”

“We are moving your mattress, Anya. It’s for the best.” Curly butt in with a cough. “It was wrong to force a lady to bunk with a group of young men,” the blonde man nervously pulled on the collar of his shirt. If the young woman pushed the conversation further, they’d reveal more than they wanted.

“You’re going to touch my things without permission is what you’re saying. You should’ve included me in this decision!” No matter his intentions, the nurse felt violated. They’d be handling and rummaging through the very place of her torture. The thought was enough to make Anya want to throw up.

“You’re right, I wasn’t thinking. I just assumed you wouldn’t want to be involved.” The older man bit his lip. There wasn’t anything he could say to claw himself out of this one, but it was moot to argue with him now. She had nothing to hide, and the decision had already been made for her. It didn’t matter if she was there to witness them rifle through her things or not. Nothing in here was more personal than what was already stolen from her. “I promise, just the mattress. We weren’t going to touch anything else.” By the sheen in his eyes, she knew the Captain was honorable, and still it felt so wrong of them to do. To ask her to be there would have been a small gesture of respect to her and her belongings. It wouldn’t have returned what was lost, but it would have made her feel all the more human. “Would you…like to come with us?”

“No.” She murmured, and the two men looked surprised by her response. “Sorry, I know I don’t make any sense. But you’re right. I don’t want to watch the two of you move it. It’ll remind me of too many things.” Daisuke was squirming in his spot. He wanted to ask what had happened, and the suspense was clearly killing him. The poor kid would understand soon enough.

“We will take special care of it, I promise.” Curly appealed. He was making a whole lot of promises to her recently. She wondered how many of them he could actually keep.

“Careful, Captain, make too many promises and I’ll start to expect things out of you.” Anya grimaced, and the man twitched at her spite.

“I know, I know. I haven’t been fair to you. But I’m trying. Really. Even if it doesn’t work out the way you were hoping. I meant what I said.” The woman cocked an eyebrow and knew she couldn’t implore further.

“Where’s Jim?” She sharply asked.

“Pulling double duty. When I’m done, I’ll switch with him again.” Curly stated.

“Is that safe? What about the autopilot?” The nurse inquired. The rapist was still in working condition, and she was disappointed by the fact that he was still conscious.

“Pony Express docks us for using it. It’s not good to become too reliant on it. We have to pretend at least to work,” the Captain ran his hand through his curls and sighed. That made sense. What would be the point of having a crew if the ship could pilot itself? Well, the bloody irony is that they, in fact, no longer needed a crew. “I know, it’s not what you wanted to hear. It’s a compromise.” Daisuke looked like he wanted to run from the conversation. He probably had some suspicions about what had happened when she brought up Jim, at least not to the fullest extent.

“I’m going to go…okay?... Thanks for moving the mattress for me.” Anya muttered, turning to leave, and Curly reached out a hand, hovering it over her. Too afraid to grasp her stained shoulder.

“Where are you going?” He asked.

“On a walk.” The woman responded, but the older man shook his head.

“I can’t allow you to do that.”

“Why not? Playing the boss now?”

“Anya, please. I’m worried about you.” The man’s eyes were worn and sunken in. Having to do his job was too much for him, but those bright eyes continued to bore into her soul. She didn’t want to listen to him, but couldn't bear to spit on him anymore. “Just go back to the Medical Bay and lock the door. You’ll feel safer. We can discuss how we will move forward from there, okay? It’s going to be okay.” Another promise he couldn’t keep. Curly couldn’t control her any more than he could control Jim. Anya didn’t want him to “fix it,” or rather, brush her experiences under the rug. Daisuke stood beside the Captain, closed in on himself, and nervously rubbed his palms together. It was about time the woman released her captives.

“Alright, I’ll head back there now.” She whispered before bowing her eyes slightly and parting from the two men. Anya could hear them chatter quietly to each other as the door slid closed behind her.

The nurse was a dirty liar as she had no intentions of returning to the Medical Bay. Curly should have sent Daisuke with her to stand guard as her warden. Despite knowing she was betraying the Captain’s trust, her feet held separate intentions and quickly veered to the right and down the stairs towards the haul. At least now she knew where Jim was for sure. In the cockpit and by his status, the last time they spoke, he was bound to be in an ornery mood. Her presence was a surefire way to snap his last remaining tether. There was no way he wasn’t still boiling from Curly’s scolding. With luck, he would be irrational and unpredictable.

The light in the hall before the cockpit continued to flicker ominously as if it begged Anya to turn back and return to where the others expected her. But her heart was guarded, and with a jittery exhale, the door shook as it had when she ambushed Curly not hours before. The nurse was greeted by the same muted green glow and the Captain’s soft oldies. Hidden under the music, she could swear she heard a smooth hum, absent from her previous venture. It was a low voice singing in time to the song. Exhausted and out of tune but enthusiastic. The dark-haired man, who sat slouched in the Captain’s seat, was apparently a fan of his music and knew the song by heart. Anya loathed that man and how he continuously plucked at her heartstrings. Every little habit and detail was like a sledgehammer. How dare that disgusting creature act so human? He was capable of the most depraved acts, yet appeared so well-kept and unassuming. Unlike his superior, he ignored her presence. Jim must have been pouting.

The Nurse gingerly made her way towards the co–pilot’s empty seat and slid into it. Even then, he offered her not a glance. Jim’s eyes were clouded, and he was adamantly focused on the console before him, still humming away. Anya was unsure if he even recognized that it was her at his side, and his silence gave her the time to analyze his face. Jim was average in every way. He wasn’t handsome, with deep-set creases on his brow and a patchy beard. Anya had seen him pull and pick at the hairs more than once during their sessions. The bags under his eyes were dark and puffy, and despite being younger than Curly, he looked so much older and beaten down. It grew apparent that Anya wouldn’t win this bout of the silent treatment. There was no way he didn’t know it was her, and his apathy alarmed her. It was awkward, and she had no idea what to say as her original plans involved him beating her to death.

“You got away with it, didn’t you?” She mumbled, and for a moment, he flicked his irises towards her and grunted. “But I guess, you’re right. It’s what I deserved. You enlightened me.” The silence that followed was deafening, and she was unsure whether he intended to converse with her or not.

“Good for you, here’s your medal for self-awareness. Not that it matters now, we are all screwed.” He spat, shifting slightly in his chair.

“What does that mean? You got away with it. You get to go home scot-free, or are you throwing a tantrum because Curly is upset with you?” The woman glared at him, but he didn’t return the stare.

“Bah! Let him be upset, the good Captain is a candy-ass. It doesn’t take a lot to get him to fold. He could hold the grudge the rest of the flight, but it doesn’t mean anything. BUT he is more annoying when he whines about something. You owe me for that.” Jim smirked and peered over towards the woman who had shifted, holding her legs firmly pressed against her chest. “What’s wrong? Were you hoping the good Cap would be your knight in shining armor? With any luck, he might just care for that little rat inside you, but don’t expect anything else. He’s a good-for-nothing fence sitter.”

“I doubt it…” Anya squeezed tighter. “I’m not that cute.” Jim wheezed and chuckled a little, slapping the top of the steering wheel.

“Did you and the Cap have a little fight?” The man’s laughter cut short.

“I made advances, but he rejected me. And it was right of him to do so. I guess we are more similar than we thought.” Anya attempted to crack a smile, but her bleary eyes welled with tears. Jim laughed again, first slowly and then picked up the pace.

“Come now, Nurse, don’t cry. That’s not what grown-ups do. You’re going to have to suck it up and accept rejection once in a while. I wouldn’t take it personally; he fancies himself an honor student. Curls might want you to suck his cock, but you’ll have to let him take you to dinner first. Should’ve asked me, I’d have told you being a little slut wouldn’t work out for you.” The woman flinched. Jim knew Curly better than she ever would. It was bold of her to assume otherwise. It made sense and cemented her failure in the Captain's eyes. She had ruined everything.

“You sure seem to know a whole awful lot about Curly.” Anya pouted.

“Well, yeah, of course. We go way back. Almost brothers, even, you could say. If I weren’t around, that doormat would still be floundering today.”

“Why do you have to do that? Insult him so much? Being your friend must be miserable.” Anya scoffed as she folded her arms across her chest. For a moment, she managed to fire a glare at the man.

“Oh, please, he’s not a sensitive little girl like you are. Curls needs someone to be honest with him.” Jimmy warily eyed her. “What are you doing here, Anya? You can’t seriously be looking for dating advice.”

“I don’t know.”

“Bullshit.”

“Haha, maybe I was just hoping I’d be irritating enough to get you to crash the ship.” She darkly joked, but the comment triggered the man, and sweat broke out on his face. The nurse could see it rolling down his cheeks as he stared ahead. “Just kidding!” She laughed. “It’d be easier, wouldn’t it? Just to let it all go. Let the universe decide for us.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Why didn’t you just kill me? To torture me? Well, you won. I can’t do it. I don’t want to do it. I don’t understand you, I can’t. Maybe once I thought about asking what was going through your mind when you did it, and getting a serious answer. I know I’m asking too much. I’m a mean, terrible person. Irredeemable even. But why couldn’t you kill me? Shut me up permanently? You made me a prisoner on this ship, and now everything is being decided for me.” The woman never felt so small as she slowly swiveled in the chair. Tears flowed from her eyes as she hadn’t the strength left to hide her grief from her abuser. “I was going to be a doctor before I met you.”

“Oooh, you were going to be a doctor,” He said mockingly. “I can’t believe you’re going to blame me for that, too. It’s not my fault you’re an idiot. Own up to it, you failed.”

“Stop dancing around the point! I know I’m dumb, but at least I still have a life worth living. It didn’t matter to me that we were fired! I wasn’t coming back either way.” She snapped, fiddling with her fingernails. “What are you going to do once we get back? Petty theft? Living out of a car, or will you continue to mooch off Curly?”

“Oh fuck you, don’t pretend you have a clue what my life was like.” Jim spat, his knuckles white as they clutched the wheel. “You privileged little girl. To even have the money to waste on so many failed endeavors. I bet you never moved out of mommy and daddy’s house.”

“Well, would you look at that. So much in common. Losers.” She looked back towards him. “Better off lost in space. Never to be seen again. Heh, that’s a selfish thought, isn’t it?” Jim didn’t respond. He resumed staring at the monitor. “I’m more selfish than that, even. I still want to go on, as terrible as I am, and hope that somehow even I could be forgiven.”

“And you’re telling me this, why?” Jim mumbled.

“I don’t know. Maybe I just wanted insight into what makes you tick. You never respected my position or my evaluations. You did whatever you could to push me away. I thought you were joking with me, making fun of how ridiculous these shitty jobs are. I had no idea you took it all so personally. You and the Captain are the same in that regard. So unwilling to open up to anyone else. ”

“You act as if you had a right to know us so personally.”

“Well, why not? We see each other more than we see our own families. Wouldn’t it have made for a more enjoyable experience? To not feel trapped with each other?”

“Impossible.”

“But why?!”

“Because my life is no one else's business but my own!” Jim slammed his fist down on the center console, causing the woman to leap back in her seat. “What do you want to know, Anya? Huh? Well? What about me are you DYING to know? My medical records? My relationship with my parents? If I’ve ever been to jail?”

“H-Have you?” She chirped.

“No, no, I haven’t! Does that make you happy?”

“Whether you’ve been to jail or not doesn’t change who you are now.”

“GOD, Anya. This is your problem. You just dig and poke and prod.”

“What did Curly say to you?

“Some crazy shit like, “You can take responsibility.” “We will take care of this together,” and “We’ve been through the thick of it before.” What an idiot. Or MAYBE you’re one lucky girl, Nurse. Maybe the lucky bastard will have two dads! Get fucking real. He also tried to appeal to my good side by begging me to DO THE RIGHT THING, and confess my sins as if he had any idea what that meant. I’m not wasting my life doing time for either of you. As if my life wasn’t shit enough before you crashed into it.”

“But why? Why was it shit? Wouldn’t it have been easier to face this loss together? If we weren’t alone?” With as much strength as she could muster, the nurse waved her arms in the space before her.

“Because there’s no way you could ever understand!” Jim hissed and leaned over the dashboard.

“But WHY? No one can help if you don’t tell them what’s wrong!” She pressed forward, inching closer towards the man, using the center console as a barrier.

“So you can FIX it, Anya? You have no idea what you are getting at. You’re going to wave a wand, and my ugly bitch of a mother is going to disappear? Even now, she never shuts up, and it’s not just her. It’s ALL of you. Nag nag nag. It’s exhausting.” Anya fell back into the chair. It happened, he finally said it: something of substance. Not as if his parental issues absolved him of his crimes, but it was the closest thing she’s ever known about his inner world.

“I’m not trying to nag you, Jim.” She sighed. If his mother were that terrible, it wouldn’t be unbelievable that he would project it onto the rest of them.

“Bullshit, you don’t. I hear you through the walls when you think I’m not.” He snapped.

 

Through the walls? What is he talking about?

Anya gazed around the room and at the piping running through the ceiling. Sound could travel from room to room. In the same way that Daisuke had heard her screaming earlier. But that was situational. The drain carried her voice, and she couldn’t remember the last time she heard idle chatter clear as day through a wall. The steel was thick and air-tight.

“Jim…are you…have you been eavesdropping through doors? T-that…I don’t know what you heard, and I’d be sorry if you weren’t a terrible person.”

“I’m not a teenage girl, Anya. I don’t hide in corners and closets. I don’t have to, you’re so god damn loud your voice shatters my skull.” Jim gritted his teeth and shot venom at her with his eyes. The woman was flabbergasted as if he were attempting to gaslight her with accusations. She closed a hand over her mouth and questioned the volume of her voice.

“Oh sure, that’s my favorite activity of all. Screaming derogatory words through the pipes like a game of telephone. You’re full of shit. There must be little voices in your head. Not even your own brain wants to be around you. ” Anya heaved a strained laugh and shifted in her chair, puffing out her chest aggressively.

“And yet here you are now. Curly is begging us to leave each other alone, and you keep coming back. Won’t help your case none.”

“I must be a masochist, or just ready for the end.” She sighed. “So what will you do once we get back to Earth? No chance you’ll go crawling back to your mother?”

“That bitch is dead.” The man said bluntly and scratched at his face. Anya stared at him with her mouth partly open and her eyebrows furrowed as she waited for the man to continue. “She had her brains blown out all over the kitchen wall! Fitting, isn’t it?” Jim cackled.

“Did yo-”

“No, I didn’t. Disappointing, isn’t it? I missed my chance,” Jim let out a deep sigh.

Something wasn’t right. He wasn’t making any sense.

“Jim…how can your mother nag you if she’s dead? I mean, I understand the weight of a parent’s pressure, but she can’t hurt you anymore. She’s gone.”

“Mmm.” Something about his limp posture was disconcerting while he slowly tapped at the steering wheel. Jim had the power in his hands to fly them into an asteroid. It would be all too easy, right? Just like she wanted, a quick end. With just one flick of the wrist, it would all be over. Anya had given herself far too long to consider it. This was a bad idea. She wanted to live, that was for sure. Screw-ups and failures went on living all the time. There was a chance if she left right now.

“I’m going to go? Okay? I’m sorry for bothering you. I wasn’t myself.” Anya leaned forward in an attempt to rise from the chair, but a voice caught her.

“Sit down.” Jim’s command was forceful. His dominance glued her to the seat even without physically reaching for her. What she thought she wanted had been provoked. The monster had been released. “You wanted to know, so let’s start this little therapy session. I’m finally ready to pour my heart out to you. Let’s be honest with each other just for once. Fire away, Doctor Anya.” Anya stared crazily into the man’s eyes. Despite the words flying from his mouth, he said them in such a deceptively soothing tone.

“Please, don’t hurt me.” She choked out.

“GOD, Anya, you just can’t take accountability, can you? You’re here of your own accord, and now you have to live with your choices. I’m not going to hurt you even if one across the face would do you good.” It was absurd; he must be out of his mind. Jim had already hurt her and blamed her for the abuse, and now acts as if he were just an innocent angel being prodded by a devil. The more he spoke, the more he confused her. It was terribly intriguing and took her breath away. There was no way left to go but forward, and she pressed on but could not hide how uncomfortable she was. The nurse’s feet gripped the edge of the chair as she nervously twisted her palms into the fabric of her coveralls to dry them.

“So your dead mom talks to you, huh? What does she say?” Anya pressed and waited for him to lash out at her angrily for accusing him of being crazy.

But he didn’t.

“Hahaha, what doesn’t she say?” The tired man chuckled. “Burden, loser, bum, abuser. Over and over, she says it. So loudly sometimes it makes my ears ring.” He demonstrated by wiggling a finger in his ear.

“Even now?”

“Even now.” He repeated and clicked his tongue. “She doesn’t much care for you either. I wouldn’t take it to heart. She’s an ugly, jealous harpy. Never liked Curly either. Doesn’t have a nice thing to say about anyone.”

“Oh, Jim…she, you really hear her? Like, she converses with you? You can’t see her, can you?” This was wrong. Something was really, really wrong. More than the nurse had anticipated. She was quickly realizing that Jim was far more than a scuffed-up asshole.

“She’s dead, Anya. Of course, I can’t see her.” Jim scoffed. His rules of being were undefined and frightened her. Anya had jokingly referred to the man as “bipolar” in the past when complaining about his pendulum swings. She couldn’t identify this behavior, which Curly had covered for so long. The woman had to choose her next words carefully as the discussion had shifted dramatically. Jim wasn’t all there, and she knew little about the subject of psychiatric disorders other than light reading to calm her nerves. Despite all her studies, she felt poorly prepared for this test. There’s no way he could be lying. The joke wouldn’t be worth his reputation. Wondering if this was a huge ploy to humiliate her further would be aimless. “Can’t please her either. Frustrating, isn’t it? Constantly being compared to someone else, never being good enough, and when that fortune is finally within grasp, it’s snatched away. How about I ask you a question, Nurse? Do you think we all come into this world equal?” It didn’t take even a moment for the woman to know her answer.

“No. If there’s anything I know for certain, it’s all unfair. It doesn’t matter how hard I’ve worked. There will always be someone more talented and intelligent than I am, with more money, beauty, and love. People who started high on life’s ladder while I scrape at the dirt in the hole I was born into.”

“Fucking infuriating. Easy to hate people like that.”

“It is.” The woman smirked. “I fucking hate this job. Just as much as the rest. I even had grand plans to leave it. Walk away. But that choice was made for me, and I’m angry. I might be a worthless human being, but it’s my right to choose, and recently, my life’s choices have all been made for me. There isn’t a shred of dignity left.”

“I can drink to that, fuck this company. Fuck the big shots, fuck the kings and how they play gods with our lives!” Jim raised his free hand and held up an imaginary glass. “Pinkies out for the fancy girlies!” And downed the shot. Anya chuckled at the ludicrousness of the situation, but then there was another shift in the man’s demeanor. “This job was the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and there it goes. A job so meaningless and worthless that a machine could do it for a fraction of the price. Lower than a machine we are. God, she never stops chirping about it. On and on the old bitch goes. Just a bunch of losers lost in space. I wonder if anyone would even come looking for us. Did you read the contract? I sure didn’t.”

“But Jim, we would be so much more than that. We don’t have to keep doing this. There are other options.”

“Other options, huh? Coming from the woman hoping I’d end up in jail once this is all over? You’re a real piece of work. Don’t try to placate me, especially now that you plan to spirit Curly away.” Jim’s jaw twitched, and Anya’s body mimicked it at the odd statement.

“Jim, don’t tell me, all of this was because of Curly?

“That bastard thinks he’s too good for me. I know he’s trying to get rid of me. The King and his subjects we are!”

“Oh, that can’t be true. That’s just silly. He isn’t like that.”

“Really now? And you would know that how? No one knows more about Curly than I do. All the dirt he’s tried to hide under a perfect image. Why would he tell you how selfish he is when trying to get something out of you?”

“How exactly is he selfish? It didn’t take a lot for him to fold at the party for you. He caved to your berating!”

“Because he knows deep down that he deserves it. For all his whining and crying, he forgets just how privileged he is! Out of all of us, he’s the only one valuable enough to be saved from the unemployment line.”

“He just felt guilty for how it would affect the rest of us.”

“Nice little sob story of his.”

“It doesn’t matter either way. He’s not going to take the position.”

“Hahaha! Good for him. Another entitlement of the rich! Whatever failed adventure he chooses next, his mommy will front the bill. Perfect little angel he is, could do no wrong even when he royally fucked up someone else's life!”

“W-what do you mean by that?”

“He’s the reason why my mother haunts me. His reckless behavior was the cause of it all!” The memory stoked a fire inside the man’s soul. Jim’s muscles were rigid, and he rhythmically tapped at the gear shifter situated within the inner console.

“Jim…I don’t think we should keep going. This is clearly upsetting you.”

“OH, now it’s a problem to you that I WANT to talk about my feelings? No, you don’t get to decide when this is over. You know how good it feels? To know I get to drag him down with me? That little monster will ruin us both. Curly let it happen, and he did NOTHING to fix it.”

“T-that’s not true. He’s…moving my mattress right now.”

“Oh, THAT’s rich. The great Captain ORION CURLING saved the day with the bare minimum! Don’t you love a middle-of-the-road man? A people pleaser, appealing to us all while friends of none!”

“It’s more complicated than that, and you know it!”

“Tell me…what’s left for us once we return? Struggling and scraping by. Nothing but working to pay the bills. No time or money to spend on the little comforts that make life worth living. Better off dead.”

“I don’t know.” Anya shook her head. “Hope, I want to believe in hope. I’m still alive, there is still time to change.”

“All that optimism is so annoying and ignorant. The opinion of someone who's never truly struggled in their life. You have no idea what it’s like to be worse off than the dirt below the beggar’s feet. And now you’re going to act like you have a chance now? I don’t understand. I can’t figure it out. How isn’t it all ruined?”

“Because I won’t let it be. You can spend the rest of your life bitching and complaining. Pointing at your dead mother as the reason why you never became anyone of value. But it’s no excuse for being so bitter and hateful. Can’t you see that? The only person in this entire universe we have control over is ourselves. You can’t control me, or Curly, and he certainly can’t keep you in line. But you have the power to decide that tomorrow will be different. Less angry, more dedicated to something you love.”

“Christ! Would you just shut up already?” Jim slammed his fists repeatedly on the center console and stomped a socked foot. “You’re going to make me throw up with all that generic fortune cookie bullshit! Stop acting like it’s easy! Acting as if it’s all about an attitude change and not that the world itself is inherently a shit place! All you’re proving is that you know NOTHING. Stop talking to me as if you have any idea what it’s like to be tortured the way I am! Every day over and over and over.” The man eyed the corner of the room as if pondering an intelligent thought. “I won’t be the only one, I refuse to be. I won’t go down alone. You’ll know what it’s like…soon enough.” The main screen flashed with a “Warning,” and the nurse had no idea how to read the coordinates, but it was apparent that the man knew what the beeping of the ship signaled. “There isn’t a whole lot out here in deep space. The Tulpar might be a hunk of junk, but it has decent radar. It can track asteroids and other objects thousands of miles away. Super easy to adjust slightly to avoid them. Even the autopilot can adjust for obstructions.”

“Jim?” Anya whimpered, slowly unfolding herself in the chair as she watched the spent man adjust buttons and dials on the front console. She hadn’t a clue what those actions pertained to, but something deep inside her sank, and her hair stood on end. “What are you doing? We should go get Curly.” He refused to turn her way as he dropped the wheel and stood. The main screen flashed “Auto Pilot Activated.”

“I’m going to let you in on a little secret. The GREAT Captain Curly was asleep at the wheel. Ever so slowly veering into an asteroid field. But it’s okay, the ship knows how to circumvent it…but what if it couldn’t?” Jim was quiet, and his emphasis on words was no longer humorous but defeated and tired. Every word seemed to steal his breath. He circled the nurse in the chair. Still sitting, she slowly followed him with her entire body, twisting herself to view him standing in front of the locker to the left. The man, without trouble, pulled a key from it. He rolled it around in his hand and blankly stared at it for a moment before murmuring something under his breath that she couldn’t make out.

“What is that?” She asked, but he didn’t respond. The man’s shoulders rose and fell slowly, his breathing labored. He seemed to be living in his own little world, cut off from her and the rest. It was frightening and different from his normal temper tantrums. Anya wanted to flee the room as fast as she could while he was distracted. However, the alarms blaring inside her cranium kept her planted. She knew if she let him be, something terrible would happen. Something she would regret. Events that could never be taken back. Her breath was stifled as she curiously watched his every movement. “Jim?...Jim?!” The nurse had never witnessed such a change in her life. This wasn’t just a childish game of the silent treatment. Jim had successfully deafened her words as if she had never been there at all.

The beeping reverberated throughout the entire room, and the longer it continued, the more ear-piercing the ringing became. The man wasn’t completely unfazed. Jim glanced back at the monitor, sweat running down his neck, and he loosely grabbed at the collar of his shirt to release the tension. With a shudder, he stumbled back towards the Captain’s chair but didn’t resume his position in it. He hung over the center console, staring at the “Warning” sign. Hundreds of buttons and dials were splayed before them, and Anya believed half of them to be decorative. In a pinch, she would have no idea what to do with the mechanics and bobbles. His hand shook as he hovered the key before a comically large red button under a glass lid. Aggressively displaying its importance. Embedded before it was a slot made perfectly for the strangest key the woman had ever seen. Intricate with several prongs bent this way and that.

“Please…please, what is that? What are you doing?” The nurse whimpered. She didn’t dare reach for him or touch him. Her knees quivered as she held herself closely.

“I’m saving us, saving us from ever having to decide. We won’t have to spend the rest of our lives struggling in this greedy, poor world anymore. No more fretting over keeping a roof over our heads or going hungry. I won’t go back, they can’t make me.” The main whispered before dropping the key and turning the lock. The cover over the red button clicked and lifted, exposing the red button. Anya didn’t know what the button was for, but it was covered for a reason. Pressing it must be a death sentence for them all. Jim hovered his hand over the button as if silently counting to three and then—

“No! Don’t!” The woman shouted. She had leaped from her chair in an instant and grabbed the arm and side of the man. “Don’t do it! Please don’t do it! Don’t kill us, I’m begging you!” Jim had paused but appeared barely phased by the woman’s strength wrapped around him. Anya, through his clothes, could feel the muscles in his arms go stiff, and her grasp did little to deter him.

“Get off of me!” Jim shouted as he squirmed to free himself from her suppression. She didn’t have the power to keep him in place, but she refused to let go.

“I won’t! I can’t let you do this! It’s not your decision to make!” She cried, yanking tightly on his arm. Her face pressed into his shoulder, tears soaked into his sleeve. “Please!” The nurse continued to struggle against his raw strength. He could press that button at any time, but her presence was enough to distract him. Her nails dug into the cloth of his undershirt. Not enough to draw any blood. “I’ll do anything! ANYTHING JIM! What do you want? Even if I have to give myself again, I’ll do it! Just please, Jim, PLEASE!” The nurse sobbed and wheezed, but his determination didn’t wane. “I don’t want to die. I don’t! Spare my life and you can do whatever you want with me!”

“Get off of me, you stupid slut!” Jim screamed, and Anya watched in horror as his elbow planted itself viciously in her cheek, knocking the woman back. Her nails tore into her arm as she fell. The screams of the alarm dissipated into a low ring.

Then nothing.

Notes:

I felt a little bold with this one! It's such a taboo subject to bring up and express any sexuality from Anya outside of her assault. Emotions and feelings are confusing, especially in such a state of losing control. I don't think it's contradictory for Anya to feel such hatred for the men around her while also desiring Curly. It's unfair for Jim to steal something so precious from her.

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Chapter 4: Apathy of the Screaming Machines

Notes:

CW: Mentions of suicide, gaslighting, slut shaming, rape

When I said I was writing shorter chapters, I meant going from 12k words to 9k words. Still, that's a hefty update!
I don't have much to say because I want this chapter to do the talking for me. It's different from the last three. :)
It's a challenging read, so good luck!
Fun fact, I guess, is that Curly's name has been mentioned 300 times so far in this fic, sounds obsessive to me!

Anya was sitting down on the edge of the medical bay’s cot. She was unsure of what she should do. Yes, she was finally in the one room with a lock. The one that could keep her safe, but now that she was here, she was engulfed with an overwhelming need to do something. Anything. But there was nothing to do here. The nurse didn’t have a long laundry list of tasks to attend to in the first place. Her main objective was to wait on standby in case of an emergency, such as a stubbed toe or a minor cut. Maybe, on an exciting day, one of the men would come to her looking for painkillers or a dose of something more substantial to knock them out. Most of her hours were spent studying or taking practice tests, and occasionally, she would indulge in a little light reading. Anya had read most of the books aboard the Tulpar a dozen times, as her personal texts were primarily made up of educational material.

For a moment, her mind wandered back to the tablet Curly had attempted to gift her not long ago. A tiny machine with the capability to hoard an infinite amount of data. With such a thing, she could have as many books as she wanted for the entire year. The woman had refused the gift under the pretense that electronic media wasn’t to her liking and feigned offense. For the most part, she preferred the smell of paper, and it was less straining on her eyes under the fluorescent lights. However, her refusal was more than that. At the time, she wasn’t sure where she wanted to proceed with their relationship. It would have been inappropriate and a sign of favoritism on his part to accept such a luxurious item. Tablets with such immense storage were nothing to sneeze at, and to take it would have given her the burden of owing him something. Whether that was the good Captain’s intentions or not.

If anything, the Captain was too good, too simple, if his spoken intentions were to be trusted. But she worried if he had the capabilities to follow them through. From her point of view, he was a man of habit and routine, and anyone throwing a wrench into his day-to-day activities caused him much distress.

Anya wanted answers and solutions now. The wait would eventually kill her. She had to work through so many thoughts, and she wasn’t ready to deal with them. The nurse needed a distraction. Any distraction would do. Anything to keep her from dwelling on the fact that she must have ruined any chance she had with the man. The guilt and shame of accusing him of violence billowed up inside her heart. She was no longer panicking, and in its stead, the weight of her emotions threatened to crush her. It forced her to face her irrational thoughts. Embarrassing thoughts. How could she have accused any of these innocent men of acts they might have done or could do? Especially after both Curly and Daisuke had attempted to cheer her up. Blaming it on the moment's tension would be a poor justification to rationalize her tantrum. Stealing the gun as she had was foolish, and Curly had every right to tear the place apart looking for it, but he didn’t.

The gun, yes, the gun. That was something she could do. It was her intention all along to perform a jailbreak on the little lock box. Anya slid off the cot and groped the indentation of the drawer, but hesitated. She had plenty of time to figure out the code, and there was still a risk that Curly, at any second, would return. However, the shame wasn’t enough for her to return the gun to its rightful owner. She had to be patient and at least see if Curly was successful or not. Whatever success would mean in this situation. There was a slim, improbable chance that the two of them would get into a vicious fight and kill each other. The gun would serve very little use afterwards. Deep inside her was a sliver of desire, a wish that everything could go back to how it was before she caused a scene. Even tainted, pregnant with another man’s child, it would all be okay. She would have the baby, return to Earth, and turn it over to the proper authorities. It would be a dream for her and Curly to start their new lives. The suggestions they threw together in jest. They would earn degrees and secure good jobs, and never worry about space or money again. If only he would forgive her for her flippancy.

Anya slapped her cheeks with the palms of her hands. Ludicrous, ludicrous thoughts! Just moments ago, she couldn’t stand the idea of being in the same room with that hulking man, much less live with him. After what had happened to her, it would be far wiser to swear off men forever. She could spend the rest of her life afraid of what went bump in the night. A more prudent future for her would be a gated community and having someone bring her her groceries. And then what? Be a doctor over the phone, too? That’s a thing now. However, it would be impossible to avoid people forever, and that would certainly be unhealthy. She had the right to live out there in the world just as much as anyone else. No one, not even Jim, had the power to take that from her unless she let him. Still, would it be wise to place so much faith in the man who allowed it to happen? The woman shook her head. Curly didn’t release Jim into the wild to hurt her, and he didn’t sit back and watch it either. She desperately attempted to rationalize what had happened. Curly might have genuinely been blindsided by what had transpired just as much as she had been. Not everyone who was rough around the edges deserved to be treated like a criminal, as she certainly didn’t believe so until now. Just because someone is a pain in the ass doesn’t make them a monster. Without a doubt, Jim had transformed into one, even if he wasn’t before. He had crossed a line he could never step back from, and Anya prayed that the Captain would understand as well. She trusted him not to turn on her, but it would be naive not to take all the precautions she could. After all, Curly couldn’t be everywhere at once. The nurse needed that gun, and she had to steel herself to use it.

With determination, she whipped open the drawer, ignoring its resistance to her force, and dragged the lock box out. Right, the woman had already forgotten. After placing the case on the cot, she tiptoed towards the door and promptly locked it behind her. Even Curly would be forced to announce himself before she’d allow him entrance. Back on the cot, she stared apprehensively at the box in her lap, worrying about the time it would take to crack the code, even before she started. The woman dreaded the tedious nature of the task. The lock box code had been scrambled, and her first attempt was to slide each number up and down one slot as if the Captain would have made it that easy for her. To her contempt, he had not, and now she was doomed to try every single one of those combinations again, as she had not kept track. With a sigh, she reset all three numbers to zero and began her pursuit.

An hour passed, and Anya had submitted to the knowledge that she wasn’t a covert hacker. The task was excruciatingly painful and mind-numbing, and too much to ask of herself to do in one sitting. Out of frustration, she slammed the box back into its resting place as punishment for being so annoying before returning to her stoop. Curly still wasn’t back yet. What could possibly be taking him so long? All he had to do was shake a confession out of Jim, knock him out, and leave him with a concussion he would ironically never forget. There was a chance the conversation had already occurred, and he failed to report the results. She should knock him in the head if that were the case. The only way to know for sure would be to check in on him. But what if he was still in the middle of his conversation with Jim?? Nothing in this universe would be more awkward than to interrupt that altercation. There was no way for her to ascertain their location either.

But why should Anya be locked in here during the day like a prisoner? While morally wrong, the woman had done nothing criminal of the sort and had every right to free rein as the rest of them. She could always attempt to make contact with Daisuke and Swansea first to see if they had any information for her. At the very least, their presence would provide protection. Anya couldn’t imagine even Jim wanting to draw the others into his villainy. The coward would probably want to keep it on the down low as if such a thing could be hidden forever. What would the two assume once she started to show? The truth would eventually come out, whether the horrid man wanted it to or not.

The best course of action was to sit tight. Right? Barely any time had passed at all. She was being terribly impatient. But…

A Polaroid of Curly’s face appeared behind her eyes. Hard and angular. Aged and abused by the passage of time, and yet those eyes. Soft pools of blue, murky and downturned. Full of apathy and disappointment. But for that one moment, when he declared his intentions. His desire to come home with her was accompanied by something else—yearning. One that was so quickly stomped on by her mania and bitterness. Anya had stolen something so precious and delicate from the man. Something she had no right to do when she projected her rage onto him. Was it still possible for him to carry the same desires as her? Would an apology be enough? How far would it have gone if he had accepted her advances? Those intentions were malicious and cruel, and even as his body yearned for hers, that lust didn’t match the shimmer in his eyes. She could surmise the look on his face—a jumbled mix of confusion and disappointment—as she revealed how grotesque she was underneath her foundation. In an attempt to force him to reveal his sinful desires for her, all she managed was to show herself nude. She bore it all to him, the mold and the rot. The nurse was no more innocent and pure than the man who had defiled her body.

Her breath caught, and the nurse had a wild realization. What she had done was the same. Anya had forced herself upon Curly in the same way Jim had to her. Curly didn’t want it. She didn’t ask him for his permission. She had assumed that, as a man, he would want her. He’d desire her just because of what he was. Such a pain couldn’t be undone or erased. How could he possibly forgive her for what she had done? She didn’t deserve Curly’s attention, affection, or his protection. It wasn’t Curly’s job to restrain Jim or scold him. After all, Jim was right about her all along. She was horribly difficult to get along with. Demanding everything from others and giving nothing in return. Curly was her victim.

Anya was crying. When the tears started, she couldn’t say. They did nothing to dull the pain of her animosity and failures.

If only there were an easy way to end it all. The gun or maybe the stash of prescription medications in the cabinets to the side of her. But in the end, she was nothing more than a coward, just as Jim was. Death was terrifying, but an end to suffering, and she had to admit the idea tempted her.

Without another thought. The young woman rose to her feet, wiped the moisture from her cheeks, and dragged her corpse to the door. She strained to lift the lock before gliding out of the room.

Anya had all but forgotten her desire to seek out the mechanic and his intern. What had happened to her was her problem and burden to bear. It would have been selfish of the woman to involve them, especially out of a sense of obligation. Instead, she made her way to the sleeping quarters and wondered if Jim would still be there. She hoped he would be as senseless as the thought was; there might even be a chance he would commit to the threats he made against her. This time, he would even be tempted to take it all the way.

The hallway of the sleeping quarters, while illuminated by the same hollow lights as the rest of the ship, felt isolated as if it were a portal to a liminal space. It was quiet with nothing more than the hum of the electrical charge to keep her company. Without a glance, she pattered past her own room and stopped in front of Jim’s. The door rose above her like a tyrannical beast, and its gravity pulled her closer. It was stupid. There was nothing left to say to this man despite the scouring of her brain. Her entire being yelled at her, demanding she run from this room, but she didn’t. The nurse was numb. From head to toe, her whole body tingled with the thrill of danger that lay before her. With excitement, Anya took a large gulp of air, held it, grabbed the handle, and flung the door open. Her eyes pressed tightly shut as the stale air of the room blew past her.

All she was met with was silence. With a small exhale of relief, she peeled her eyes open slowly, one at a time, and glanced into the room. It was identical to hers in layout, with the bed against the wall. The state of it surprised her. It was clean and tidy. There were no clothes or garbage strewn across the floor. The desk was in order, and there was even a small bookshelf pressed up against the wall. Jim liked to read? She had never personally witnessed it, and the topic had never arisen during casual conversation. The overwhelming dread and fear of staring directly into the lion’s den was absent. It was just a room like any other and far removed from where Jim had raped her. The woman was filled with a strange disappointment when she looked towards the bed. The blankets had been thrown back as if he had left in a hurry, as the cover had slipped to the floor. It was a sign that the man’s attempt to rest had been hastily interrupted. For some reason, she found herself picturing him there. Curled up in the same ball he was in on the couch. The rage she felt at his comfort had all but been extinguished. Curly had done well on his promise, or at the very least had retrieved the man. The last thing she wanted was to run into them together. It would be degrading to walk in on that conversation. Jim would immediately discern that she had snitched to the boss.

With one last flick of the eyes around the room, Anya gently slid the door closed again and followed the wall back to her room. Her fingertips gently pressed against the brisk metal surface of the hall to ground herself until she stood in the doorway of her room. If only she had just willed herself to lie down in the bed. She could have slept off the void inside of her. Unfortunately, it was a passing notion as the woman glanced around her room. The bed, with its strawberry cover and pillowcases, which once felt like a piece of home in space, was repulsive. The woman could no longer ignore what had transpired on those innocent sheets. The essence of her assault was smeared into every pore and fiber. She wouldn’t be able to find comfort there even if that is what she desired.

Next to her bed was a standard metal nightstand with a lamp and a small mirror. Below the light was her glasses and contact case. All the crying she had been doing had left her eyes irritated, dry, and swollen from the lenses glued to her retinas. The discomfort was another indicator of her vanity. She felt like such a dork wearing her glasses and had initially chosen the large frames because they were cute on the rack. But it was so hard to give up her look without them, as if she had gone fishing in space. Why continue to wear mascara and lipstick? For her personal satisfaction, or was it for them? Jim made it clear she wasn’t cute. Was it all just a waste of time? No, that wasn’t the case; she had done it for her. It was her right to want to feel pretty even in a wasteland of apathy.

The woman’s eyes screamed to be set free, and the discomfort had grown too intolerable to ignore. Instead of freshening the lenses with solution, she snatched up the case, picked at her eyes one by one, and plopped the lenses back into the container. Quickly after, she added her glasses to her face and allowed her vision to adjust to the change. It was easier and far more comfortable to manage, even if she felt ugly in them, almost as if they made her invisible.

Chatter could be heard from the hall. Just close enough for the woman to make out that it was Curly and Daisuke. What in the world was Curly doing with the intern? Shouldn’t he still be with Jim? Jim isn’t here.

Anya stepped from her quarters and straight into the young man. Daisuke yelped in surprise and scurried to a safe distance from the woman behind Curly, who looked just as alarmed as the boy.

“Anya! What are you doing here? I thought you’d still be in the Medical Bay.” Curly choked with his hands held in front of his chest. Their presence meant nothing to her as her brain chugged to find the questions that should have been on the tip of her tongue.

“I wanted my glasses.” She said bluntly and let out a faux laugh. “It was dire. They were so fused to my eyeballs I was almost worried. What are you doing here? Why do you look so nervous…Captain?”

“Oh, AH, well. I did as I promised,” the man stammered. “I think we should continue this discussion privately…please.” Daisuke looked from the blonde man to her, a quizzical expression on his face. Curly must have kept the situation a secret, and by the goofy expression on the kid’s face, it was clear he had gotten the wrong idea.

“Ooh hoho, the Nurse and the Captain alone in a locked room? Scandalous. I promise not to tell! That HAS to be some handbook violation!” Daisuke chucked, and Curly twisted himself into a pretzel to frantically wave the idea away. The Captain was red-faced and glistening, which added fuel to the intern’s fire. His suspicions must have been true for the older man to look so flustered. It was a pleasant dream, and Daisuke was better off believing it.

“Well, it’s a good thing we won’t be working for them much longer.” Anya briefly flashed a small smile.

“Oh, right..mm, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought up a sore subject.” Daisuke twitched. He must have feared her flying off the handle as she had done earlier. The nurse was beamed in the head with guilt. Daisuke was the first victim of her hysteria and, in turn, felt the need to step lightly around her. “I won’t pry. It’s none of my business what the two of you are up to.”

“Daisuke, you don’t have to be like that. We’re friends. If this is about earlier, I shouldn’t have snapped at you. It wasn’t your fault.” She reassured him. “We just have a lot going on right now. Please, don't worry.”

“Anya?” The young man cocked his head to the side, but she answered the intern’s concern with another smile.

“So, what are the two of you doing here again?” She changed subjects. “Is there a party I wasn’t invited to in my room?”

“Nonono, nothing like that!” Daisuke stammered. “Curly asked if—”

“We are moving your mattress, Anya. It’s for the best.” Curly butt in with a cough. “It was wrong to force a lady to bunk with a group of young men,” the blonde man nervously pulled on the collar of his shirt. If the young woman pushed the conversation further, they’d reveal more than they wanted.

“You’re going to touch my things without permission is what you’re saying. You should’ve included me in this decision!” No matter his intentions, the nurse felt violated. They’d be handling and rummaging through the very place of her torture. The thought was enough to make Anya want to throw up.

“You’re right, I wasn’t thinking. I just assumed you wouldn’t want to be involved.” The older man bit his lip. There wasn’t anything he could say to claw himself out of this one, but it was moot to argue with him now. She had nothing to hide, and the decision had already been made for her. It didn’t matter if she was there to witness them rifle through her things or not. Nothing in here was more personal than what was already stolen from her. “I promise, just the mattress. We weren’t going to touch anything else.” By the sheen in his eyes, she knew the Captain was honorable, and still it felt so wrong of them to do. To ask her to be there would have been a small gesture of respect to her and her belongings. It wouldn’t have returned what was lost, but it would have made her feel all the more human. “Would you…like to come with us?”

“No.” She murmured, and the two men looked surprised by her response. “Sorry, I know I don’t make any sense. But you’re right. I don’t want to watch the two of you move it. It’ll remind me of too many things.” Daisuke was squirming in his spot. He wanted to ask what had happened, and the suspense was clearly killing him. The poor kid would understand soon enough.

“We will take special care of it, I promise.” Curly appealed. He was making a whole lot of promises to her recently. She wondered how many of them he could actually keep.

“Careful, Captain, make too many promises and I’ll start to expect things out of you.” Anya grimaced, and the man twitched at her spite.

“I know, I know. I haven’t been fair to you. But I’m trying. Really. Even if it doesn’t work out the way you were hoping. I meant what I said.” The woman cocked an eyebrow and knew she couldn’t implore further.

“Where’s Jim?” She sharply asked.

“Pulling double duty. When I’m done, I’ll switch with him again.” Curly stated.

“Is that safe? What about the autopilot?” The nurse inquired. The rapist was still in working condition, and she was disappointed by the fact that he was still conscious.

“Pony Express docks us for using it. It’s not good to become too reliant on it. We have to pretend at least to work,” the Captain ran his hand through his curls and sighed. That made sense. What would be the point of having a crew if the ship could pilot itself? Well, the bloody irony is that they, in fact, no longer needed a crew. “I know, it’s not what you wanted to hear. It’s a compromise.” Daisuke looked like he wanted to run from the conversation. He probably had some suspicions about what had happened when she brought up Jim, at least not to the fullest extent.

“I’m going to go…okay?... Thanks for moving the mattress for me.” Anya muttered, turning to leave, and Curly reached out a hand, hovering it over her. Too afraid to grasp her stained shoulder.

“Where are you going?” He asked.

“On a walk.” The woman responded, but the older man shook his head.

“I can’t allow you to do that.”

“Why not? Playing the boss now?”

“Anya, please. I’m worried about you.” The man’s eyes were worn and sunken in. Having to do his job was too much for him, but those bright eyes continued to bore into her soul. She didn’t want to listen to him, but couldn't bear to spit on him anymore. “Just go back to the Medical Bay and lock the door. You’ll feel safer. We can discuss how we will move forward from there, okay? It’s going to be okay.” Another promise he couldn’t keep. Curly couldn’t control her any more than he could control Jim. Anya didn’t want him to “fix it,” or rather, brush her experiences under the rug. Daisuke stood beside the Captain, closed in on himself, and nervously rubbed his palms together. It was about time the woman released her captives.

“Alright, I’ll head back there now.” She whispered before bowing her eyes slightly and parting from the two men. Anya could hear them chatter quietly to each other as the door slid closed behind her.

The nurse was a dirty liar as she had no intentions of returning to the Medical Bay. Curly should have sent Daisuke with her to stand guard as her warden. Despite knowing she was betraying the Captain’s trust, her feet held separate intentions and quickly veered to the right and down the stairs towards the haul. At least now she knew where Jim was for sure. In the cockpit and by his status, the last time they spoke, he was bound to be in an ornery mood. Her presence was a surefire way to snap his last remaining tether. There was no way he wasn’t still boiling from Curly’s scolding. With luck, he would be irrational and unpredictable.

The light in the hall before the cockpit continued to flicker ominously as if it begged Anya to turn back and return to where the others expected her. But her heart was guarded, and with a jittery exhale, the door shook as it had when she ambushed Curly not hours before. The nurse was greeted by the same muted green glow and the Captain’s soft oldies. Hidden under the music, she could swear she heard a smooth hum, absent from her previous venture. It was a low voice singing in time to the song. Exhausted and out of tune but enthusiastic. The dark-haired man, who sat slouched in the Captain’s seat, was apparently a fan of his music and knew the song by heart. Anya loathed that man and how he continuously plucked at her heartstrings. Every little habit and detail was like a sledgehammer. How dare that disgusting creature act so human? He was capable of the most depraved acts, yet appeared so well-kept and unassuming. Unlike his superior, he ignored her presence. Jim must have been pouting.

The Nurse gingerly made her way towards the co–pilot’s empty seat and slid into it. Even then, he offered her not a glance. Jim’s eyes were clouded, and he was adamantly focused on the console before him, still humming away. Anya was unsure if he even recognized that it was her at his side, and his silence gave her the time to analyze his face. Jim was average in every way. He wasn’t handsome, with deep-set creases on his brow and a patchy beard. Anya had seen him pull and pick at the hairs more than once during their sessions. The bags under his eyes were dark and puffy, and despite being younger than Curly, he looked so much older and beaten down. It grew apparent that Anya wouldn’t win this bout of the silent treatment. There was no way he didn’t know it was her, and his apathy alarmed her. It was awkward, and she had no idea what to say as her original plans involved him beating her to death.

“You got away with it, didn’t you?” She mumbled, and for a moment, he flicked his irises towards her and grunted. “But I guess, you’re right. It’s what I deserved. You enlightened me.” The silence that followed was deafening, and she was unsure whether he intended to converse with her or not.

“Good for you, here’s your medal for self-awareness. Not that it matters now, we are all screwed.” He spat, shifting slightly in his chair.

“What does that mean? You got away with it. You get to go home scot-free, or are you throwing a tantrum because Curly is upset with you?” The woman glared at him, but he didn’t return the stare.

“Bah! Let him be upset, the good Captain is a candy-ass. It doesn’t take a lot to get him to fold. He could hold the grudge the rest of the flight, but it doesn’t mean anything. BUT he is more annoying when he whines about something. You owe me for that.” Jim smirked and peered over towards the woman who had shifted, holding her legs firmly pressed against her chest. “What’s wrong? Were you hoping the good Cap would be your knight in shining armor? With any luck, he might just care for that little rat inside you, but don’t expect anything else. He’s a good-for-nothing fence sitter.”

“I doubt it…” Anya squeezed tighter. “I’m not that cute.” Jim wheezed and chuckled a little, slapping the top of the steering wheel.

“Did you and the Cap have a little fight?” The man’s laughter cut short.

“I made advances, but he rejected me. And it was right of him to do so. I guess we are more similar than we thought.” Anya attempted to crack a smile, but her bleary eyes welled with tears. Jim laughed again, first slowly and then picked up the pace.

“Come now, Nurse, don’t cry. That’s not what grown-ups do. You’re going to have to suck it up and accept rejection once in a while. I wouldn’t take it personally; he fancies himself an honor student. Curls might want you to suck his cock, but you’ll have to let him take you to dinner first. Should’ve asked me, I’d have told you being a little slut wouldn’t work out for you.” The woman flinched. Jim knew Curly better than she ever would. It was bold of her to assume otherwise. It made sense and cemented her failure in the Captain's eyes. She had ruined everything.

“You sure seem to know a whole awful lot about Curly.” Anya pouted.

“Well, yeah, of course. We go way back. Almost brothers, even, you could say. If I weren’t around, that doormat would still be floundering today.”

“Why do you have to do that? Insult him so much? Being your friend must be miserable.” Anya scoffed as she folded her arms across her chest. For a moment, she managed to fire a glare at the man.

“Oh, please, he’s not a sensitive little girl like you are. Curls needs someone to be honest with him.” Jimmy warily eyed her. “What are you doing here, Anya? You can’t seriously be looking for dating advice.”

“I don’t know.”

“Bullshit.”

“Haha, maybe I was just hoping I’d be irritating enough to get you to crash the ship.” She darkly joked, but the comment triggered the man, and sweat broke out on his face. The nurse could see it rolling down his cheeks as he stared ahead. “Just kidding!” She laughed. “It’d be easier, wouldn’t it? Just to let it all go. Let the universe decide for us.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Why didn’t you just kill me? To torture me? Well, you won. I can’t do it. I don’t want to do it. I don’t understand you, I can’t. Maybe once I thought about asking what was going through your mind when you did it, and getting a serious answer. I know I’m asking too much. I’m a mean, terrible person. Irredeemable even. But why couldn’t you kill me? Shut me up permanently? You made me a prisoner on this ship, and now everything is being decided for me.” The woman never felt so small as she slowly swiveled in the chair. Tears flowed from her eyes as she hadn’t the strength left to hide her grief from her abuser. “I was going to be a doctor before I met you.”

“Oooh, you were going to be a doctor,” He said mockingly. “I can’t believe you’re going to blame me for that, too. It’s not my fault you’re an idiot. Own up to it, you failed.”

“Stop dancing around the point! I know I’m dumb, but at least I still have a life worth living. It didn’t matter to me that we were fired! I wasn’t coming back either way.” She snapped, fiddling with her fingernails. “What are you going to do once we get back? Petty theft? Living out of a car, or will you continue to mooch off Curly?”

“Oh fuck you, don’t pretend you have a clue what my life was like.” Jim spat, his knuckles white as they clutched the wheel. “You privileged little girl. To even have the money to waste on so many failed endeavors. I bet you never moved out of mommy and daddy’s house.”

“Well, would you look at that. So much in common. Losers.” She looked back towards him. “Better off lost in space. Never to be seen again. Heh, that’s a selfish thought, isn’t it?” Jim didn’t respond. He resumed staring at the monitor. “I’m more selfish than that, even. I still want to go on, as terrible as I am, and hope that somehow even I could be forgiven.”

“And you’re telling me this, why?” Jim mumbled.

“I don’t know. Maybe I just wanted insight into what makes you tick. You never respected my position or my evaluations. You did whatever you could to push me away. I thought you were joking with me, making fun of how ridiculous these shitty jobs are. I had no idea you took it all so personally. You and the Captain are the same in that regard. So unwilling to open up to anyone else. ”

“You act as if you had a right to know us so personally.”

“Well, why not? We see each other more than we see our own families. Wouldn’t it have made for a more enjoyable experience? To not feel trapped with each other?”

“Impossible.”

“But why?!”

“Because my life is no one else's business but my own!” Jim slammed his fist down on the center console, causing the woman to leap back in her seat. “What do you want to know, Anya? Huh? Well? What about me are you DYING to know? My medical records? My relationship with my parents? If I’ve ever been to jail?”

“H-Have you?” She chirped.

“No, no, I haven’t! Does that make you happy?”

“Whether you’ve been to jail or not doesn’t change who you are now.”

“GOD, Anya. This is your problem. You just dig and poke and prod.”

“What did Curly say to you?

“Some crazy shit like, “You can take responsibility.” “We will take care of this together,” and “We’ve been through the thick of it before.” What an idiot. Or MAYBE you’re one lucky girl, Nurse. Maybe the lucky bastard will have two dads! Get fucking real. He also tried to appeal to my good side by begging me to DO THE RIGHT THING, and confess my sins as if he had any idea what that meant. I’m not wasting my life doing time for either of you. As if my life wasn’t shit enough before you crashed into it.”

“But why? Why was it shit? Wouldn’t it have been easier to face this loss together? If we weren’t alone?” With as much strength as she could muster, the nurse waved her arms in the space before her.

“Because there’s no way you could ever understand!” Jim hissed and leaned over the dashboard.

“But WHY? No one can help if you don’t tell them what’s wrong!” She pressed forward, inching closer towards the man, using the center console as a barrier.

“So you can FIX it, Anya? You have no idea what you are getting at. You’re going to wave a wand, and my ugly bitch of a mother is going to disappear? Even now, she never shuts up, and it’s not just her. It’s ALL of you. Nag nag nag. It’s exhausting.” Anya fell back into the chair. It happened, he finally said it: something of substance. Not as if his parental issues absolved him of his crimes, but it was the closest thing she’s ever known about his inner world.

“I’m not trying to nag you, Jim.” She sighed. If his mother were that terrible, it wouldn’t be unbelievable that he would project it onto the rest of them.

“Bullshit, you don’t. I hear you through the walls when you think I’m not.” He snapped.

 

Through the walls? What is he talking about?

Anya gazed around the room and at the piping running through the ceiling. Sound could travel from room to room. In the same way that Daisuke had heard her screaming earlier. But that was situational. The drain carried her voice, and she couldn’t remember the last time she heard idle chatter clear as day through a wall. The steel was thick and air-tight.

“Jim…are you…have you been eavesdropping through doors? T-that…I don’t know what you heard, and I’d be sorry if you weren’t a terrible person.”

“I’m not a teenage girl, Anya. I don’t hide in corners and closets. I don’t have to, you’re so god damn loud your voice shatters my skull.” Jim gritted his teeth and shot venom at her with his eyes. The woman was flabbergasted as if he were attempting to gaslight her with accusations. She closed a hand over her mouth and questioned the volume of her voice.

“Oh sure, that’s my favorite activity of all. Screaming derogatory words through the pipes like a game of telephone. You’re full of shit. There must be little voices in your head. Not even your own brain wants to be around you. ” Anya heaved a strained laugh and shifted in her chair, puffing out her chest aggressively.

“And yet here you are now. Curly is begging us to leave each other alone, and you keep coming back. Won’t help your case none.”

“I must be a masochist, or just ready for the end.” She sighed. “So what will you do once we get back to Earth? No chance you’ll go crawling back to your mother?”

“That bitch is dead.” The man said bluntly and scratched at his face. Anya stared at him with her mouth partly open and her eyebrows furrowed as she waited for the man to continue. “She had her brains blown out all over the kitchen wall! Fitting, isn’t it?” Jim cackled.

“Did yo-”

“No, I didn’t. Disappointing, isn’t it? I missed my chance,” Jim let out a deep sigh.

Something wasn’t right. He wasn’t making any sense.

“Jim…how can your mother nag you if she’s dead? I mean, I understand the weight of a parent’s pressure, but she can’t hurt you anymore. She’s gone.”

“Mmm.” Something about his limp posture was disconcerting while he slowly tapped at the steering wheel. Jim had the power in his hands to fly them into an asteroid. It would be all too easy, right? Just like she wanted, a quick end. With just one flick of the wrist, it would all be over. Anya had given herself far too long to consider it. This was a bad idea. She wanted to live, that was for sure. Screw-ups and failures went on living all the time. There was a chance if she left right now.

“I’m going to go? Okay? I’m sorry for bothering you. I wasn’t myself.” Anya leaned forward in an attempt to rise from the chair, but a voice caught her.

“Sit down.” Jim’s command was forceful. His dominance glued her to the seat even without physically reaching for her. What she thought she wanted had been provoked. The monster had been released. “You wanted to know, so let’s start this little therapy session. I’m finally ready to pour my heart out to you. Let’s be honest with each other just for once. Fire away, Doctor Anya.” Anya stared crazily into the man’s eyes. Despite the words flying from his mouth, he said them in such a deceptively soothing tone.

“Please, don’t hurt me.” She choked out.

“GOD, Anya, you just can’t take accountability, can you? You’re here of your own accord, and now you have to live with your choices. I’m not going to hurt you even if one across the face would do you good.” It was absurd; he must be out of his mind. Jim had already hurt her and blamed her for the abuse, and now acts as if he were just an innocent angel being prodded by a devil. The more he spoke, the more he confused her. It was terribly intriguing and took her breath away. There was no way left to go but forward, and she pressed on but could not hide how uncomfortable she was. The nurse’s feet gripped the edge of the chair as she nervously twisted her palms into the fabric of her coveralls to dry them.

“So your dead mom talks to you, huh? What does she say?” Anya pressed and waited for him to lash out at her angrily for accusing him of being crazy.

But he didn’t.

“Hahaha, what doesn’t she say?” The tired man chuckled. “Burden, loser, bum, abuser. Over and over, she says it. So loudly sometimes it makes my ears ring.” He demonstrated by wiggling a finger in his ear.

“Even now?”

“Even now.” He repeated and clicked his tongue. “She doesn’t much care for you either. I wouldn’t take it to heart. She’s an ugly, jealous harpy. Never liked Curly either. Doesn’t have a nice thing to say about anyone.”

“Oh, Jim…she, you really hear her? Like, she converses with you? You can’t see her, can you?” This was wrong. Something was really, really wrong. More than the nurse had anticipated. She was quickly realizing that Jim was far more than a scuffed-up asshole.

“She’s dead, Anya. Of course, I can’t see her.” Jim scoffed. His rules of being were undefined and frightened her. Anya had jokingly referred to the man as “bipolar” in the past when complaining about his pendulum swings. She couldn’t identify this behavior, which Curly had covered for so long. The woman had to choose her next words carefully as the discussion had shifted dramatically. Jim wasn’t all there, and she knew little about the subject of psychiatric disorders other than light reading to calm her nerves. Despite all her studies, she felt poorly prepared for this test. There’s no way he could be lying. The joke wouldn’t be worth his reputation. Wondering if this was a huge ploy to humiliate her further would be aimless. “Can’t please her either. Frustrating, isn’t it? Constantly being compared to someone else, never being good enough, and when that fortune is finally within grasp, it’s snatched away. How about I ask you a question, Nurse? Do you think we all come into this world equal?” It didn’t take even a moment for the woman to know her answer.

“No. If there’s anything I know for certain, it’s all unfair. It doesn’t matter how hard I’ve worked. There will always be someone more talented and intelligent than I am, with more money, beauty, and love. People who started high on life’s ladder while I scrape at the dirt in the hole I was born into.”

“Fucking infuriating. Easy to hate people like that.”

“It is.” The woman smirked. “I fucking hate this job. Just as much as the rest. I even had grand plans to leave it. Walk away. But that choice was made for me, and I’m angry. I might be a worthless human being, but it’s my right to choose, and recently, my life’s choices have all been made for me. There isn’t a shred of dignity left.”

“I can drink to that, fuck this company. Fuck the big shots, fuck the kings and how they play gods with our lives!” Jim raised his free hand and held up an imaginary glass. “Pinkies out for the fancy girlies!” And downed the shot. Anya chuckled at the ludicrousness of the situation, but then there was another shift in the man’s demeanor. “This job was the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and there it goes. A job so meaningless and worthless that a machine could do it for a fraction of the price. Lower than a machine we are. God, she never stops chirping about it. On and on the old bitch goes. Just a bunch of losers lost in space. I wonder if anyone would even come looking for us. Did you read the contract? I sure didn’t.”

“But Jim, we would be so much more than that. We don’t have to keep doing this. There are other options.”

“Other options, huh? Coming from the woman hoping I’d end up in jail once this is all over? You’re a real piece of work. Don’t try to placate me, especially now that you plan to spirit Curly away.” Jim’s jaw twitched, and Anya’s body mimicked it at the odd statement.

“Jim, don’t tell me, all of this was because of Curly?

“That bastard thinks he’s too good for me. I know he’s trying to get rid of me. The King and his subjects we are!”

“Oh, that can’t be true. That’s just silly. He isn’t like that.”

“Really now? And you would know that how? No one knows more about Curly than I do. All the dirt he’s tried to hide under a perfect image. Why would he tell you how selfish he is when trying to get something out of you?”

“How exactly is he selfish? It didn’t take a lot for him to fold at the party for you. He caved to your berating!”

“Because he knows deep down that he deserves it. For all his whining and crying, he forgets just how privileged he is! Out of all of us, he’s the only one valuable enough to be saved from the unemployment line.”

“He just felt guilty for how it would affect the rest of us.”

“Nice little sob story of his.”

“It doesn’t matter either way. He’s not going to take the position.”

“Hahaha! Good for him. Another entitlement of the rich! Whatever failed adventure he chooses next, his mommy will front the bill. Perfect little angel he is, could do no wrong even when he royally fucked up someone else's life!”

“W-what do you mean by that?”

“He’s the reason why my mother haunts me. His reckless behavior was the cause of it all!” The memory stoked a fire inside the man’s soul. Jim’s muscles were rigid, and he rhythmically tapped at the gear shifter situated within the inner console.

“Jim…I don’t think we should keep going. This is clearly upsetting you.”

“OH, now it’s a problem to you that I WANT to talk about my feelings? No, you don’t get to decide when this is over. You know how good it feels? To know I get to drag him down with me? That little monster will ruin us both. Curly let it happen, and he did NOTHING to fix it.”

“T-that’s not true. He’s…moving my mattress right now.”

“Oh, THAT’s rich. The great Captain ORION CURLING saved the day with the bare minimum! Don’t you love a middle-of-the-road man? A people pleaser, appealing to us all while friends of none!”

“It’s more complicated than that, and you know it!”

“Tell me…what’s left for us once we return? Struggling and scraping by. Nothing but working to pay the bills. No time or money to spend on the little comforts that make life worth living. Better off dead.”

“I don’t know.” Anya shook her head. “Hope, I want to believe in hope. I’m still alive, there is still time to change.”

“All that optimism is so annoying and ignorant. The opinion of someone who's never truly struggled in their life. You have no idea what it’s like to be worse off than the dirt below the beggar’s feet. And now you’re going to act like you have a chance now? I don’t understand. I can’t figure it out. How isn’t it all ruined?”

“Because I won’t let it be. You can spend the rest of your life bitching and complaining. Pointing at your dead mother as the reason why you never became anyone of value. But it’s no excuse for being so bitter and hateful. Can’t you see that? The only person in this entire universe we have control over is ourselves. You can’t control me, or Curly, and he certainly can’t keep you in line. But you have the power to decide that tomorrow will be different. Less angry, more dedicated to something you love.”

“Christ! Would you just shut up already?” Jim slammed his fists repeatedly on the center console and stomped a socked foot. “You’re going to make me throw up with all that generic fortune cookie bullshit! Stop acting like it’s easy! Acting as if it’s all about an attitude change and not that the world itself is inherently a shit place! All you’re proving is that you know NOTHING. Stop talking to me as if you have any idea what it’s like to be tortured the way I am! Every day over and over and over.” The man eyed the corner of the room as if pondering an intelligent thought. “I won’t be the only one, I refuse to be. I won’t go down alone. You’ll know what it’s like…soon enough.” The main screen flashed with a “Warning,” and the nurse had no idea how to read the coordinates, but it was apparent that the man knew what the beeping of the ship signaled. “There isn’t a whole lot out here in deep space. The Tulpar might be a hunk of junk, but it has decent radar. It can track asteroids and other objects thousands of miles away. Super easy to adjust slightly to avoid them. Even the autopilot can adjust for obstructions.”

“Jim?” Anya whimpered, slowly unfolding herself in the chair as she watched the spent man adjust buttons and dials on the front console. She hadn’t a clue what those actions pertained to, but something deep inside her sank, and her hair stood on end. “What are you doing? We should go get Curly.” He refused to turn her way as he dropped the wheel and stood. The main screen flashed “Auto Pilot Activated.”

“I’m going to let you in on a little secret. The GREAT Captain Curly was asleep at the wheel. Ever so slowly veering into an asteroid field. But it’s okay, the ship knows how to circumvent it…but what if it couldn’t?” Jim was quiet, and his emphasis on words was no longer humorous but defeated and tired. Every word seemed to steal his breath. He circled the nurse in the chair. Still sitting, she slowly followed him with her entire body, twisting herself to view him standing in front of the locker to the left. The man, without trouble, pulled a key from it. He rolled it around in his hand and blankly stared at it for a moment before murmuring something under his breath that she couldn’t make out.

“What is that?” She asked, but he didn’t respond. The man’s shoulders rose and fell slowly, his breathing labored. He seemed to be living in his own little world, cut off from her and the rest. It was frightening and different from his normal temper tantrums. Anya wanted to flee the room as fast as she could while he was distracted. However, the alarms blaring inside her cranium kept her planted. She knew if she let him be, something terrible would happen. Something she would regret. Events that could never be taken back. Her breath was stifled as she curiously watched his every movement. “Jim?...Jim?!” The nurse had never witnessed such a change in her life. This wasn’t just a childish game of the silent treatment. Jim had successfully deafened her words as if she had never been there at all.

The beeping reverberated throughout the entire room, and the longer it continued, the more ear-piercing the ringing became. The man wasn’t completely unfazed. Jim glanced back at the monitor, sweat running down his neck, and he loosely grabbed at the collar of his shirt to release the tension. With a shudder, he stumbled back towards the Captain’s chair but didn’t resume his position in it. He hung over the center console, staring at the “Warning” sign. Hundreds of buttons and dials were splayed before them, and Anya believed half of them to be decorative. In a pinch, she would have no idea what to do with the mechanics and bobbles. His hand shook as he hovered the key before a comically large red button under a glass lid. Aggressively displaying its importance. Embedded before it was a slot made perfectly for the strangest key the woman had ever seen. Intricate with several prongs bent this way and that.

“Please…please, what is that? What are you doing?” The nurse whimpered. She didn’t dare reach for him or touch him. Her knees quivered as she held herself closely.

“I’m saving us, saving us from ever having to decide. We won’t have to spend the rest of our lives struggling in this greedy, poor world anymore. No more fretting over keeping a roof over our heads or going hungry. I won’t go back, they can’t make me.” The main whispered before dropping the key and turning the lock. The cover over the red button clicked and lifted, exposing the red button. Anya didn’t know what the button was for, but it was covered for a reason. Pressing it must be a death sentence for them all. Jim hovered his hand over the button as if silently counting to three and then—

“No! Don’t!” The woman shouted. She had leaped from her chair in an instant and grabbed the arm and side of the man. “Don’t do it! Please don’t do it! Don’t kill us, I’m begging you!” Jim had paused but appeared barely phased by the woman’s strength wrapped around him. Anya, through his clothes, could feel the muscles in his arms go stiff, and her grasp did little to deter him.

“Get off of me!” Jim shouted as he squirmed to free himself from her suppression. She didn’t have the power to keep him in place, but she refused to let go.

“I won’t! I can’t let you do this! It’s not your decision to make!” She cried, yanking tightly on his arm. Her face pressed into his shoulder, tears soaked into his sleeve. “Please!” The nurse continued to struggle against his raw strength. He could press that button at any time, but her presence was enough to distract him. Her nails dug into the cloth of his undershirt. Not enough to draw any blood. “I’ll do anything! ANYTHING JIM! What do you want? Even if I have to give myself again, I’ll do it! Just please, Jim, PLEASE!” The nurse sobbed and wheezed, but his determination didn’t wane. “I don’t want to die. I don’t! Spare my life and you can do whatever you want with me!”

“Get off of me, you stupid slut!” Jim screamed, and Anya watched in horror as his elbow planted itself viciously in her cheek, knocking the woman back. Her nails tore into her arm as she fell. The screams of the alarm dissipated into a low ring.

Then nothing.

Notes:

I hope I did the conversation between Jim and Anya justice. It was a hard write—to be honest, it's all a hard write.
I've been planning and mulling over it for SO long.

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Chapter 5: Pathetic Excuse for a Grown-ass Man.

Notes:

I'm not going to LIE! The ending of this one was actually pretty hard to write. I may have teared up a little.

I almost considered writing Curly and Anya's conversation from Curly's point of view, but ultimately decided to skip it due to the word count, and it was less tedious to have him reflect on it afterward.

ALSO I am an Orion Carling TRUTHER! I quickly flipped over and added a moment in here where Curly reflects on it a bit. I honestly held out on name-dropping Curly for this reason. Jimmy is the only one who dropped his name, and I quickly went back and edited it haha!

 

Curly’s bootsteps towards the sleeping quarters announced his final stand. The ship was currently set to autopilot. It wasn’t preferable. Every moment that neither of them was at the wheel, they were being docked. He didn’t want to do it. It felt cruel to interrupt his rest. For the Captain to throw himself out of the airlock was a sudden yet appealing idea in the face of a deplorable confrontation. The concept of never having to choose again would be the ultimate reprieve. Those spiraling thoughts filled him with shame. He knew what he had to do, but the idea of his relationship with Jimmy imploding filled his heart with trepidation. It wasn’t easy for him to accept Anya’s testimony. There wasn't a chance in hell she was lying, but he had to admit he didn’t know her all that well. Her true character was an enigma to him, and not due to any fault of her own. He was the one who spent the last three years avoiding her and the others. It was against company policy to have personal relationships with his crew. The social isolation was maddening, and one of the reasons why he dragged Jimmy aboard in the first place. He initially framed it as a job that would benefit his friend, not himself. As a reputable man in his position, it wasn’t tricky for Curly to get Jimmy the job with the bonus of keeping him close.

Back on Earth, life had always been hard on Jimmy, and Curly had a front row seat to the other’s follies. The two of them grew up together in an unconventional manner. Jimmy was in and out of Curly’s life sporadically over the years. Curly’s mother was devoted to her God-given mission to help the less fortunate. In this case, she meant Jimmy, whom the Carlings fostered from childhood into adulthood. Never officially adopted due to Jimmy’s relationship with his biological mother. A truly horrid woman whom Curly only had the pleasure of her company a handful of times. It was difficult not to pity a man with such an abhorrent upbringing.

Jimmy had problems, ones that were to be expected from someone who survived such a childhood. There was something off about the man, but Curly couldn’t say what it was for sure. His friend had his share of highs and lows. Sometimes, he was a joy, rough around the edges, but well-meaning. A general good time. On the other hand, when he was moody, it was best to steer clear of him altogether. The highs weren’t always well received either; they weren’t always joyous, and sometimes they materialized as outbursts of malicious anger. It was a dangerous game of roulette. Whether he was in a high or a low, the results of this confrontation would be the same. Detrimental.

That reasoning alone should’ve been enough evidence in Anya’s favor. The Captain knew Jimmy could be irrational when he was angry. It was true that he couldn’t say for sure if Jimmy had ever gone so far in the past. He convinced himself it wasn’t possible. This had to be the first time, or was it just the first time he had been caught? The most he was aware of was Jimmy’s petty criminal record. There were some minor thefts and vandalism incidents, as well as a single bar fight. Nothing he was ever sent to jail for, and those activities appeared to cease as he got older. He had a hard time holding down a job. Tardiness was a recurring behavior, along with disputes with superiors. Usually, the arguments at work never escalated to physical violence. It always seemed to Curly that the younger man feared physical pain, and a squabble wasn’t worth a punch to the face. One broken nose later, he had all but given up the pastime.

But Anya wasn’t a threat, was she? An easy target, backed into the corner of a cage with nowhere to go. If there was any question on his mind, it was that he couldn’t fathom why. What had the nurse done that Jimmy justified attacking her? Curly needed to know, even if the why didn’t matter. He had always had a strong desire to understand Jimmy, and that knowledge had eluded him his entire life. It wasn’t that easy to walk away. A mission that started with the man’s mother had been passed to him. She had always asked Curly to look out for Jimmy because his life wasn’t as privileged as his own. Always be grateful for what you have, help those who have less than you, and never take it personally when they lash out at you.

But it was personal. It was no longer just about him and Jimmy. This time, Jimmy, for whatever reason, dragged an innocent into their self-destructive fray. It wasn’t a mistake to bring a woman aboard the Tulpar. The mistake was bringing Jimmy along. This job couldn’t fix him. It couldn’t fix anyone. They were five lone people trapped in a cage together. It was only a matter of time before one snapped. Their team was crumbling to dust under his feet. It would be impossible to recover from this one, but it no longer mattered. All the Captain had to do was keep them from killing each other before they returned to Earth. After that, they would never have to see each other ever again. What mattered was ensuring that they could return to their previous lives..

But what about him? What would the Captain do once they landed? A part of him felt the instinct that demanded he drag Jimmy back to his mother. Let him be her problem. She brought him into the household, and he was her responsibility to deal with. He couldn’t do it anymore. Curly was fed up babysitting the other man. No amount of love he had for Jimmy could wash away what he had done. His sin would be apparent in time.

Curly hesitated in front of the door to the sleeping quarters. Anya’s question lingered in her mind. “Why are there no locks in the sleeping quarters?” He could think of a few reasons, but nothing that couldn’t have been solved with a master key. Or a code only he, as Captain, was privy to, to open any door in an emergency. All excuses aside, there were no locks, simply because Pony Express loved to cut corners.

He made his way down the lonely hall past the bedrooms. Anya’s was at the hall's start, then Daisuke’s, Swansea's, and Jimmy’s. Curly’s room was the last in line, with a few empty rooms to spare. It had been a long time since the Tulpar was fully staffed. At the very least, the doors to the bedrooms weren’t automatic and didn’t fly open every time someone walked in front of them. But still, that wasn’t enough.

The Captain wondered if he owed Jimmy his privacy to knock first as he stood there awkwardly in front of the door. There was a horrible irony in having to invite oneself into another’s room. But that didn’t stop Jimmy. He was more than willing to invade Anya’s privacy and further. If Curly were more of a man, he’d immediately bolt into the other's room and drag him out, squirming by the ear. Curly was angry, furious, but also anxious, and had no desire to stoop to the same level as the rapist he called his friend.

It was time; the blonde man couldn’t wait any longer. With a shaky fist, he tapped on the door, and its clang reverberated around their metal cage. There was no response to his call. Not a rustle or a groan. Silence. Jimmy must have been in a deep sleep, and no one could blame him after a rigorous shift. Not wanting to intrude without permission, whether the other man deserved the courtesy or not, Curly slammed his fist against the door with more aggression. It was justified, authoritative, and within his rights to do so. It felt aggressive and satisfying, a mere whimper of what he should have done. Jimmy was a criminal; privacy was a privilege he had lost when he laid his hands on another crewmate. But still, there wasn’t a response from the other side of the door. But it was too late for Curly to change his mind and turn back. He wouldn’t be able to face Anya again if he chickened out. To fail her now would make him a pile of shit.

Curly peered around the hall anxiously to check for other signs of life. There was a possibility that his aggressive pounding alerted another. It was a pitiable attempt at stalling. There was no one else around. It was now or never, Curly’s moment to be the leader that he signed up to be, and he never felt more unqualified. His callused hands reached for the handle and gave it a little tug, causing it to spring to life. The door opened, and a gentle breeze of stagnant air and light from the hall poured inside. It was difficult to make out its interior as the light cast great shadows that rested in the corners of the room, but the man’s memory filled in the gaps. A Pony Express issued desk and bookshelf were pushed up against the right side of the room. The smooth surfaces revealed a lack of clutter, with papers and books neatly stacked. Despite Jimmy’s troubled history, he had always been methodical with his work and living conditions. It was a likely direct response to the horde his mother had subjected him to. Nothing of decorative value lined the walls, giving the room a sterile feel much like Curly’s own living quarters. The thought of bringing Earthly comforts aboard the Tulpar left a sour taste in the man’s mouth. This wasn’t home, and it never would be.

Opposite the left side of the small cardboard box of a room was the metal skeleton of a bed frame, and underneath its covers lay a large mass. Jim was out like a light, and on further inspection, Curly could make out the light snores of the other man. Dead to the world, with no cares or worries. Despicable. Curly could feel his heart run laps around his chest cavity. The feeling was different. The man’s breath was stolen, and his mind went blank, but not out of panic. It was hot and explosive. Curly was enraged. His lips peeled back to reveal a set of snarling teeth. Rapid hot air seethed from his mouth, and his irises contracted, displaying the whites of his eyes.

Without another thought, the Captain's hand snatched the buried man’s shoulder and dragged him to the ground—a heavy thump followed by a blood-curdling scream. Jimmy failed to recognize his assailant as the larger man dragged him, kicking and squirming, to his feet. Curly, blinded by rage, slammed the dark-haired man down on his ass on the bed and grabbed him by both shoulders. He shook him viciously through Jimmy’s whimpers and the screeching of the metal bed. Even in the darkness, the reflection of light highlighted Jim’s contorted face. His eyes were pinched tightly shut in fear as he used his hands to shield his face from his attacker pathetically. Curly’s large frame consumed the man. His shadow eclipsed his form.

“Don’t hurt me! Please don’t! Please, please, please, please!” Jimmy begged between gasps of air. His hair was strewn about his face, bangs covering his eyes. There were no waterworks, just pure adrenaline-driven terror.

“Look at me, Jim, LOOK at me,” Curly sternly shouted, but still Jimmy refused and cradled himself. He swayed slowly back and forth, picking up the illumination of the light and then receding into the darkness. His crumbled form emitted small cries. Curly’s brow twitched in frustration, and without warning, he harshly grabbed the other man’s chin, held it, and forced Jimmy to look him directly in the eyes. When they made eye contact, the Co-pilot’s fear melted and boiled into a simmering irritation. The total opposite reaction from what Curly was hoping for.

That look, a familiar look, penetrated the Captain to his core. The confrontation, the pushback. One that filled him so easily with guilt. What he had done was already going way too far, but he couldn’t walk away from it now. There wouldn’t be anything more humiliating in this world than to apologize. But why should the man? This assault was merely a fraction of the damage Jimmy had inflicted on Anya.

“Curls…what the hell are you doing? Is the insomnia finally getting to you? I should report you for assault.” And just like that, the Captain’s soul shook and his grip on the other man‘s shoulders slackened. Jimmy wasn’t going to back down without a fight. It wasn’t beyond the mountain of a man’s capabilities to knock the other out. He has already proved himself capable. Why? Why was he already crumbling?!

“You’ve got to be kidding me. Assault, you say? Yeah…yeah, let’s talk about it. Talk about assault. You’re very familiar with it, aren’t you?” Curly wheezed, the second-guessing cracked and ruptured the glasshouse even as he said it. It was stupid, so, so, so STUPID to yank Jimmy out of the bed like that. It was insanity for a man in his position to do. No training or instructions advised using physical force when the others acted out of line. No, no, no. This isn’t the same, not the same at all. This wasn’t about being the Captain; this was about being a man. Anya didn’t need a Captain; she needed a friend. Someone bigger and stronger who could handle what she couldn’t. But he wasn’t her friend, was he? Curly couldn’t escape it, no matter how hard he wanted to. He was in charge even when being in charge was dog shit, and if he couldn’t do it, then he should have bowed out a long time ago.

“You’ve been talking to the NURSE again, haven’t you?” Jimmy sneered, leaning in closer to Curly’s face. “Women just say that craziest shit, don’t they? Their minds play tricks on them. They make excuses and lies when confronted with truths they don’t want to accept.” Jimmy exaggerated his exhale, signing the end of it with a chuckle.

“You’re one to talk! Lies? Manipulation is what you’re good at!” Curly’s voice cracked, shattering his façade, causing his brows to slide down his face. Denial came so easily to Jimmy. The Captain knew his promise was empty as soon as it fell from his mouth and disintegrated on the floor before the nurse. “Just admit it. Tell me what you did. EVEN if all I hear is excuses as to why!”

“I’m not going to say shit as long as you’re nagging and bitching like an emotional woman. Nice little outburst you had there, Captain, feeling a little hormonal?” Jimmy spat and jerked at Curly’s wrists, but the stronger man wasn’t ready to let go.

“Why are you like this? You’re always like this.” Curly spat. The frustration he felt in his chest was as hot as a dying star. His palms were slick with sweat, and the notion that Jimmy could sense his anxiety compounded his heightened emotions. “This is serious, it isn’t a joke. I NEED you to be honest with me for once. You are in trouble, real trouble, and I can’t help you unless you admit what you did.”

“So that woman DID set you up to this. You’re her little puppy dog. How’s it feel being pegged in the ass?”

“Don’t start, don’t even go there. This has nothing to do with any personal relationship I might have with Ms. Anya. This is my responsibility as Captain to keep the crew in order. I’d do this for any of them. None of you are required to be friends, but you have to respect them, which includes not…raping them. Oh, Jim…how could you? You’re supposed to be better than this. I NEEDED you to be better than this.” Curly cleared his voice and winced; the word caught in his throat. It was difficult, almost impossible to say it out loud, but he owed it to Anya not to dance around the subject. The situation deserved respect and not to be cushioned with softer dialogue.

“I didn’t know being the Captain gave you permission to attack a crew member. I don’t have to sit here and be lectured by you, you hypocrite. Violence comes so naturally to you that’s not very professional.” Jim’s sneer doused him in a bucket of ice water. The flame in his chest had been extinguished, and all that was left was a sopping mess. The Captain’s hands slid off Jim’s shoulders and down his chest before backing away completely. His posture slumped in shame. The only source of heat remaining was the one flaring up in his cheeks. Curly had to save the situation, reevaluate his methods, and start over.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have laid my hands on you.” Curly murmured and stroked the back of his head, desperately pinching for comfort between the soft tufts. Jimmy leaned back onto the bed, slowly sliding his hands over the fabric of the cover. The man's legs were splayed apart in a dominant stance. He believed he had won, and it would be challenging to turn the tide of the conversation. Curly hated arguments and debates, and Jimmy was a mastermind. That snake tongue of his was so clever at weaving quips and questions and never giving straightforward responses in return. It was confusing and complicated for the blonde man to follow, and this led him to respond sloppily. Once Jimmy started picking at the cracks and tears, it wasn't easy to fend off his onslaught. Curly could make out Jim’s expression, which was sunken and downturned, most likely due to the lack of sleep. This confrontation was cruel to the man, comparable to torture. But Jimmy deserved it, right? Right? This was nothing compared to rape. Jimmy lost all rights to his autonomy. Or did he? Did Curly really have the authority to make that decision?

“What a pitsy ass situation we’ve landed ourselves in, haven’t we?” Jim started first, shaking his head. “But you got what you wanted, did you? You’re free. The rest of us, well, we are fucked. If you bring all this to light, you’ll kill those little dreams of yours. You think you won’t be blamed for what happened? After all, you are the Captain.”

“I…I don’t, I don’t know.”

“I’m here because of you.”

“I know.”

“So, what are you going to do about it? Save yourself or stick to your little convictions.”

“Jim, we can make this work. Make it okay, take responsibility. There is still time to make this up to her.” Curly rambled on, and Jimmy broke out in a low fake laughter.

“You really are one crazy piece of work. You’re just as bad as your nurse. Tell me, Captain, how do you suppose someone as deplorable as me can fix this?”

“I-I don’t know.”

“God, you don’t know anything. Some help you turned out to be. How about this one instead? The crew of the Tulpar dies tragically and mysteriously in the pit of space. The ship, never to be seen again. The poor garbage of the universe, put out to pasture one last time. Sounds nice, doesn’t it? You won’t have to put your brain to work for once to figure it out.”

“Don't say things like that. It’s going to be okay. Life is still worth living after all of this.”

“Baaah, give me a break, you’re over there accusing me of being a criminal and now you want to pretend we are best friends.”

“We are, we are best friends. That’s why I have to hold you accountable. We can get through this together.”

“That's sweet of you. Does your little girlfriend agree with your sentiments?” Jimmy shook his head in fake disappointment. No, no, Anya wouldn’t. She already told him not to return to her if he didn’t throw the book at Jimmy now. But how could he? How could Curly throw away decades of Jimmy? Jimmy’s well-being was his responsibility, too. It would be unreasonable to give it all up for a woman he fantasized about. What if Anya could never forgive him? Even if Curly committed to convicting Jimmy, what if the pain was far too deep for her to let go? If it weren’t for his responsibility to Jimmy, she would have never been raped in the first place. Years of her life were spent deflecting Jimmy’s cruelty towards her. This sorry excuse of a man was a massive part of Curly’s life. He was bound to slip up and mention the other man’s name in casual conversation. So many memories he would have to lock away in a chest in the back of his mind. Jim let out a loud sigh to pull the other man from his internal debate. “I take that as a no. You’re all washed up, Curls, there is no easy out of this one.” Curly stood there in silence. He needed more time. If only he had a little more time to figure this out. “I’ll handle it.”

“What?” Curly gasped, and his body tightened in anticipation. Jimmy’s tone of voice unsettled him. Throughout most of this conversation, Jimmy’s voice was calm and still despite the assault. Their eye contact was excruciatingly painful.

“I’ll take care of it.” The sudden change in his response was a blanket of anxiety. Curly’s eyes were fully dilated in the darkness, desperately scanning the man on the bed for any hint of what he was thinking.

“Take care of it, how?” Curly asked slowly, but Jimmy broke eye contact and stared towards the door. Curly peered over his shoulder at the light but saw nothing there. “Did she tell you to?” The blonde man’s eyes slowly shifted back towards the man on the bed, who just shook his head.

“That bitch doesn’t have a shred of morality in her. I’d rather die than give her stupid ass opinions a second thought.”

“I know.”

“You sure know a whole lot, Captain.” Curly caught himself before uttering “I know” again. Whatever Jimmy’s plan was, Curly couldn’t leave him up to his own devices, and he didn’t have the time to have a great long discussion with the autopilot engaged.

“We can talk about this more thoroughly later. Whatever you do, please don’t do anything impulsive or without me. In the meantime, I need you to pilot the ship. There are things I have to do first.”

“Whaaaaaaa??” Jim whined, his mouth hung open. “You’re kidding me?! I just finished a 12-hour shift! I’m dying here, man, there’s no way. I’m half awake right now as is. You are a god damn slave driver. Is this my punishment? Because it’s a good one. You’d be lucky if I don’t run the Tulpar into the ground.”

“There’s no ground in space, Jim. I’m asking a lot, I know, I KNOW. It won't be for long. An hour. TOPS. I have something that needs to get done.” One of those things was breaking the bad news to Anya. He failed her completely. Crumbled up like tissue paper. His declarations to her were foolish. Nothing more than a deplorable excuse for a man. It’s not like he was actually in love with her. They barely knew each other. It wouldn’t be rational to throw his entire life away on a whim for a pretty woman. He cared about her, and it would be a lie to deny his affection for her, but still. It wasn’t the same as his friendship with Jimmy. The risk of something so fleeting would be risky.

“What? What is it? Itching to break the news to your girly? You might want to give her some space. She’s already attacked me once, and your disastrous attempt at heroism is likely to send her over the edge. I would hate to be you right now.” Jimmy sighed as he peeked up at the blonde man’s drooping face. “It’s your fault for being so wishy-washy. At least I’ve accepted what I am. It’s pretty annoying watching you flounder like this. So afraid of making the wrong decision, you’re feet are cemented to the floor. Not choosing in itself is a choice. People aren’t the machines you tinker with. They are unpredictable and messy.”

“I don’t need someone like you to tell me that.” Curly huffed to the side. “I haven’t completely closed myself off from others. I have friends, unlike a certain someone.”

“Oh yeah? How close?” Jimmy asked, which sparked a grumble from the other man. “That’s what I thought. We’ve all we have left, Curls, in this god forsaken universe. I’ll take care of you, just as I always have. Need my tired ass to run this ship into a meteor? I’ll do it for you! Anything for you. By BEST PAL.” Jimmy waved his arms joyfully with a massive grin on his face as he hoisted himself up from the bed, landing mere inches from the Captain’s face. Too close, far too close, the taller man could feel stale breath on his face, but against his better judgment, Curly could feel his muscles relax despite the chill that ran through his body.

“Please don’t. That’s a terrible idea. Let’s go home. Together.” Curly forced a small smile even though his eyes were worn and pulsating, and he gripped Jimmy’s shoulder in a comforting, reassuring way. With a scoff, Jimmy brushed the hand off his shoulder and shook his head.

“You’re such a sap. Don’t let anyone take advantage of that. Especially that woman.” Jimmy’s face scrunched into a scowl. “I wouldn’t mind never seeing her ever again.”

“Jim. I can’t let anything like this happen again. I’m moving her into the Medical Bay. Leave her alone.”

“Sure, tell that bitch the feelings are mutual. She isn’t able to keep her hands off me.”

“JIM.” Curly’s voice was stern, and he fought to maintain his blood pressure. “Please, just do this for me.”

“Anything else, Your Royal Highness?” Jimmy slurred his words with a cheeky smile. His mood was all over the place, and it was crucial during times like these not to push him too far.

“Come on, Jim, we are practically equals here! No need for such titles.” Curly placed his hand firmly between Jimmy’s shoulder blades before giving him a gentle push forward. “Real quick, Jim. The faster you go, the quicker you can go back to bed.” Jim let out a loud groan in protest, but with a quick rolling of the shoulders and muffled pops, he shuffled towards the door, looking back one last time before exiting the room. Curly made a peculiar note of his friend’s lack of shoes. He scanned the room but found no trace of Jim’s boots. Odd.

The broad-shouldered man stood awkwardly in silence in the bedroom for a while longer until he could hear the rattle of the outer door signaling that his friend had left the sleeping quarters. Curly couldn’t stand Jimmy’s intensity any longer and had no desire to trail him before he parted ways. He stumbled from Jimmy’s room and down the hall, stopping short of Anya’s room. Its aura overwhelmed him like a dark monster. Never had he been given the opportunity to visit the woman’s room, as it would have been inappropriate at best. The thought of going in alone was even worse. Curly had briefly mentioned his plan to the nurse, but he essentially forced the decision upon her without a mutual agreement. For a few moments, he mulled over the idea, pacing in a small circle. What if Anya’s room wasn’t clean? What if she had left unmentionables out in the open? His intrusion was a clear violation of her personal boundaries. Curly stopped dead in his tracks and, with a short nod and a quick pace, he exited the sleeping quarters. While he had failed her, he should at least be professional enough to include her in the migration of her sleeping arrangements.

---

Guilty, guilty, guilty! No matter how hard he powered through the shame, he couldn’t relieve himself from the embarrassment that was his self. Just as it has always been, the Captain had allowed his co-pilot to run him over. It wasn’t even that hard. His insecurity chained him to the floor. His decision to remain inactive now was no different from any other time he had allowed Jimmy to make the choice, no matter how irresponsible it was. Curly KNEW better than to trust his friend to not fuck it all up, and yet he couldn’t muster the strength to do any better. That was the reality of their dynamic.

Two screw ups. Losers. Every fine idea he implemented of his own accord erupted in his face. He didn’t have the right to go home with Anya either way. But he could have at least given her the decency of throttling Jimmy into the pavement. But then what? What would he do then? If he ruined his relationship with the other man, who else could he turn to to finish the journey? He couldn’t force Jimmy to work or keep him from flying them into a star in the worst-case scenario. It was just safer, easier to let Jimmy think he’s gotten away with everything. That was an idea, he could tell Anya. It was almost perfect. Too perfect. He could tell Anya it was all a part of his plan to pacify the other man until they returned to Earth, and in the meantime, he would work on an actual plan. One where it wouldn’t be left up to him to punish Jimmy.

Oh, that’s a good one, Orion. Fantastic idea. Nothing works out better than a relationship based on a lie.

The thought lingered and billowed up inside the man’s chest as he mapped the shortest route to the Medical Bay. No one called him Orion. Not often, even by himself. The irony of being named after a constellation or a myth was so pretentious that the word left a tacky feeling in his mouth. It was a name appointed to a great scholar, not a college dropout turned errand boy. The very thought of a man worthy of the name “Orion” elicited a wave of loathing throughout his body. He was pretty sure he didn’t compare to the myth either. Would a real Orion run to his fair maiden’s side and vow to protect her for all eternity? Now that was truly a repulsive thought.

The shortcut through the lounge would take him straight there in a matter of minutes, but he quickly second-guessed that desire and veered right and plodded straight down the grate steps and into the haul. Just a quick detour, he assured himself, just enough time to gather his bearings. It would be difficult to lie with eyes dilated and stumbling over his words.

Just be honest. Tell her the truth…but the truth means the end. She’ll be so angry. But she’s going to be angry either way, you clod. It’s over.

Curly slammed his hand against the metal frame of the Tulpar, doubling over and frantically hugging himself with his free arm. His heart was going a million miles an hour, and the ringing in his ears intensified.

Calm down, Calm downcalmdowncalmdown!

It was nonsensical. The entire thing. Why couldn’t he stop himself from caring too much? None of it mattered. Whether Anya hated him or not. It’s not as if he had the willpower to change his circumstances anyway. It was foolhardy to commit to such a spontaneous reaction. What if it all fell through? The Captain had nothing else going on in his life other than being what he was. It was safe, easy. What if he screwed himself by not accepting Pony Express’s offer? Either way, he’d be alone, but alone with security was better than having nothing at all! Pathetic, pathetic excuse for a grown-ass man. Nothing would be more shameful than to have to crawl back to his family and beg for their assistance. To which they would provide, but to do so would prove Jimmy right. No matter how much he screwed up, he had somewhere to go back to. So, why did he fight so hard to maintain appearances? This shitty life? WHY WHY WHY WHY IS IT SO HARD TO CHOOSE!!??

I HATE YOU. I’VE ALWAYS HATED YOU! DO BETTER! BE BETTER!

Curly let out a silent scream and dropped to the ground, pounding at the wall as he went. He was on the brink of tears out of frustration, but they didn’t come, as well as his resolve. His entire being was left frozen there on the floor as he had long passed the ability to ground himself. As a last resort, all he could hope for was for the tornado to wreak its havoc and disperse.

“Captain?” A muffled voice reached out from the blinding lights above him. It was soft and quiet, as if the man had been completely submerged in a pool of water. His gaze flicked upwards and quickly retreated due to the sheer blinding luminosity that cast reflections in the pools of his eyes. When the spots had appeared in his vision, he couldn’t say, but he had since lost hope of regaining clarity. “Oh dude, you look terrible. Are you sick? Did you fall? You didn’t hit your head, did you?” A shadow of a figure knelt in front of the man, completely eclipsed by the halo of light behind him. “Oh shit, uh, hey. Captain? Look at me. Can you look at me?” The voice was desperate and begged for security. “Do you need to go to the Medical Bay? Maybe Anya can give you a look over.” The words “Medical Bay” awakened cold sweat inside the older man, a sick and twisted means of clarity. His eyes rose to meet those of the figure before him. The haze dissipated, revealing a scrunched expression on the intern’s face, Daisuke, who remained a respectable distance away from Curly. Daisuke's lips were stretched, showing a line of perfect pearls, peeled open in a panic. The boy's hand was raised and shaking as if he couldn’t decide if it was appropriate to lay his hands on a superior.

Reality had struck the Captain like a freight train, leaving him unable to find the strength to stand on wobbly legs; his face was flushed bright red at being discovered by the youngest member of the crew in such a vivid state of weakness. All the man could manage was to raise a shaky hand to articulate to the boy that he was okay. It wasn’t enough to get the intern to leave. Daisuke, uncomfortable, sat down next to him and propped himself up against the wall, and sighed.

“Yeah, I don’t know if I would be okay with leaving you alone like this. I know you’re the Captain, but even Captains need someone else to look out for them. Especially if you have a concussion or something.” The intern’s voice was calm and smooth. Reassured that there wasn’t anything he could lose from their interaction. Curly, with all the mental force he could muster, begged for the kid to leave and forget what he saw, but it didn’t work. It wasn’t as if standing next to a superior during a panic attack was against company policy. From now on, it would have to be their sworn secret. No one else can know.

“I’m not hurt. I’m fine.” Curly choked out.

“Sleep deprived?”

“Reoccurring.” Curly cracked a smile. “I’m sure this doesn’t instill any confidence in you at all.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” The two men sat in silence for a few moments until Curly’s gasps became too much for the young man to handle. “Actually, it’s almost kinda nice to see?”

“W-what?” Curly slipped back onto his behind and frantically began to blot at the sweat pooling at his brow lines with the back of his hand.

“I was starting to worry that maybe I was the only one who couldn’t get it together. But even an old guy like you has things that completely throw you off your rocker, huh? I might not be so bad after all.” The boy nervously chucked, and his eyes darted from Curly and the maintenance room. “My man Swansea, now that’s a guy who has it all together.” The Captain could make out the pace of his heart as it pumped its brakes.

“Some of us are just better at masking the crap than others.” Curly sighed and leaned back, peering at the top of the haul. “Living with it is what adults do. It was always there, even when we were children. If you’re lucky, your parents shield you from it. For others, not so much.”

“Well, that sucks to know.” Daisuke pursed his lips together and wet them with his tongue. Curly shook his head. That wasn’t right. Hopes and dreams were for the young. His sorry state of bitterness was no reason to jam a hard pill down the kid's throat, even if it would be so easy, so satisfying to drag them both down into the muck.

“Don’t let it get you down too much, kid. You still have time to figure it out. If you learn anything from this blasted trip. Learn how not to be.” Curly smirked through tightly squinted eyes. The crow's feet stretched across his temples. “You’re a good kid, Daisuke.”

“Oh, I’m not so sure about that. I wouldn’t be here, trudging through space if I had my life together.” The intern sighed and slid further down the wall. He dared to lie on the grimy metal floor of the haul. His hair was strewn about the wall and the floor. “OH!, Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make it sound like I think this is all a big waste of time!” The kid’s head lifted from the ground just enough to look Curly in the eye again. “I think all of you are GREAT. Really. I mean it.”

“Even Swansea, huh?”

“Oh, definitely! He’s a genius at getting old crap running again. It’s almost a shame he’s just a mechanic. I swear he’d be out there building the dang ships if given the opportunity!” Daisuke grinned as he rolled his head back and forth on the cold grate. “Anya is a lot of fun, too! Very nice. But I mean a standing ovation for you and Jimmy! We’d be lost in space without you. I can’t even imagine how much work it takes to keep us in the air!” There was no air in space, but Curly still gave the boy a reassuring smirk—that pristine picture of the rest of the crew he held dearly. Curly’s chest swelled with the desire to protect that flawless painting.

“So…how IS work going for you? Sorry, I’ve never gotten around to asking before. It’s a major oversight on my part not to check in on you from time to time.” The captain asked mechanically. It wasn’t until that moment that he realized how much he craved uncomfortable small talk with someone who wasn’t Jimmy…or Anya.

“Ah! Actually. “Daisuke flung himself up off the floor and crossed his legs in front of him as his body swayed to and fro. “It’s actually not as dull as I thought it would be. I have SOME experience tinkering around with electronics back home, so it was a nice surprise to see how much overlap there is between the two trades.”

“Oh?...it makes sense to you?” Curly questioned. It wasn’t the answer he was expecting out of such a carefree boy in a pink shirt.

“Yes, yeess! You see, I was actually a bit of a self-proclaimed special effects artist back home. LOVE me some good silicone molds. But RECENTLY, I started dabbling in animatronics. What kid my age wasn’t big into FNAF at one point? I even managed to swipe myself an old stage show one. I’ve spent the last couple of years refurbishing it. It’s been a wild ride. You have NO idea how much black mold can build up in those beauties.” The older man had no idea what the kid was going on about. What’s a FNAF? He was mildly aware of those old pizza parlors with those horrifying monsters set up in them when he was a child. That must have been what Daisuke was referring to.

“Y-you keep one of those creatures…in your…house?” Curly stuttered.

“Oh, not just my house. In my bedroom!” He bellowed. “My parents were PISSED when I brought him home. It cost me an arm and a leg to acquire one. But it was SO worth it.” Curly was taken aback. All the assumptions he had previously made about Daisuke had fallen short. He had NO idea who this kid was, which was the case across the board. He didn’t know much about any of his crew. The man spent most of his existence purposefully avoiding them. Assuming they had no merit, the same as him. Clearly, he had been mistaken, horribly so. It was a great disservice to the man in front of him. “Well…worth it to me. Not to them. It’s a hard sell. Wanting to be an artist and an artist for a dead medium like practical effects. My parents were so desperate to get me to utilize my skills in the “real” world that they figured they were doing me a favor by sending me here.”

“You’re amazing.” That was all Curly could get out.

“How can you tell? You’ve never seen my work? I appreciate it, though. Artists are a dime a dozen anymore. Being good isn’t enough.” Daisuke’s eyes grew sullen. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to go on like that. I’m sure you have more important things to do.” Curly had finally reached equilibrium again. He was calm, and his breath was steady. There was still passion inside the young man’s heart, a fire that he had lost long ago. It was his duty to encourage it. Curly understood that desire to be someone, a desire that continued to ache inside of him. But quickly, he remembered his promise to Anya and how he crushed her desires under his boot by being the same loser he had always been. It was too late for him…but—

“You have your entire life ahead of you, Daisuke. So much time to turn it around. You’re not going to end up like the rest of us.” Curly’s words of encouragement came out dull and quiet. “I promise.”

A load of good those words meant to anyone, you aging sack of crap.

Daisuke paused, and his brow furrowed in thoughtful contemplation over the older man’s words. Curly toiled with the potential of breathing reality into his ideals if he just said them enough. Believed in them enough. Frantically clinging to the strength of the youth behind him. But what was the chance he wouldn’t just contaminate Daisuke the same way he ruined Anya? Negativity begets more negativity. Nothing positive could ever be bred from poison. All Curly knew how to do was spread his miasma and smother those closest to him. It was best to remove himself from others altogether.

“I know…there’s a lot I still don’t understand.” Daisuke started. “A-and this probably isn’t my place to say, but I really do mean it when I say, I think all of you are pretty alright,” Curly smirked in response to Daisuke’s earnest compliment. “No-no really! I mean it. Maybe you never got to do what you wanted. Plans change, after all, that’s why I’m here. But that doesn’t mean what you did was for nothing. Come on now, fuuuuck Pony Express. Just because they are shit doesn’t mean we are. You are like the coolest person I know, Captain. You make it all look so easy. Seeing you all crashed out on the floor just made you real.”

“Thanks, kid.” Curly lightly chuckled. There had never been a time in the Captain’s life when he felt like a superhero. Even in his position, he was stuck merely doing the grunt work of a machine. He hadn’t the foggiest clue what Pony Express had in mind for him in the future, but he dreaded the thought of more of the same.

“I-is there anything I can do for you? Anything at all? Just to lighten the load a little.” Daisuke asked with eagerness.

“Seems like a risky request. Won’t Swansea be a bit jealous of me stealing his intern? The Captain smirked, finally making eye contact with the kid who had a smidge of flush over his cheeks and nose.

“Bah! Naaah, and if he does, he’ll get over it. Swansea acts like a hard ass, but he’s a bit of a softy deep…DEEP down in the trenches of his dead heart.” The intern belted out with a huge grin spread across his face. “Hard to be afraid of a teddy bear like that. He might act a little pissy later, but he’ll get over it.” Curly was floored by the kid’s description of his old, grumpy ass co-worker. Just another thing he never knew about him, despite years of working side by side. It befuddled the blonde. The only thing the two had in common was their annoyance with the plucky youth who came in and out of their lives through a revolving door.

“Ope, not even a crack of a smile for that one? You’re a tough crowd. Not that I expected anything else from someone so serious.” Daisuke sighed dramatically, hanging his head low.

“Ah, oh, sorry.” Curly was startled by the response. It was becoming increasingly embarrassing to be read so easily by this kid, and their conversation had gone on for so long that he had lost all plans of escape. “I’m just tired; sometimes my mind starts to wander when I haven’t gotten enough sleep.”

“When was the last time you got enough sleep?” Daisuke questioned, leaving Curly to press his lips tightly together in silence. “That’s what I thought.” The young man continued. “Can’t say I relate, the second my head hits the pillow, I’m out like a light. But I have to be honest and say the five hours of sleep are starting to get to me. Buuuut, what I’m hearing through your grumbles is that you are on the brink and need help with something. Come on, come ooooon. Just say the word. YOU’RE the BOSS after all!” Daisuke teased and felt comfortable enough to jam his elbow into Curly’s side lightly. The bewildered captain stared down at his side, and flashes of his night with Anya on the couch hovered over his eyelids. The two of them were so similar it hurt.

There was something he needed help with. A task easy enough that an intern could do and might accept even without the whole story. It wasn’t as if Daisuke was in a position to question his authority.

“There is something, actually. That I could use help with, and I haven’t been all that thrilled to do it.” Curly murmured, barely capable of looking the boy's way.

“Yes, of course. I got you!”

“I’m moving Anya out of the sleeping quarters and into the Medical Bay.” The Captain said sullenly.

“W-what? Did something happen to her? I-I was wondering because she was acting SO off earlier.” Daisuke stuttered as he shifted around in his spot and peered behind him, looking for interlopers.

“I uh NO. No, nothing happened. Nothing in particular. Anya and I decided it’s just the right time to do so. It’s been difficult for her to share her private spaces with a bunch of unsophisticated men for so long. S-she hasn’t been adjusting to the atmosphere well, and it’s been affecting her mental health. SO we TOGETHER decided that it was time to move her into her own space…one with a lock…on the door.” That sounded possible, reasonable, something a woman would want. “As a precaution, she hasn’t been…comfortable…with some of the language we use.” Even better.

“Oh damn it, it’s my fault, isn’t it?” Daisuke stuttered. “I KnOw I can get carried away sometimes when talking about HOT HUNNIES. I had no idea it bothered her so much. I PROMISE, I was nothing but respectful when I rode them like a-”

“Daisuke.” Curly interrupted. “Some things are best kept to ourselves in fairer company.”

“Shit, I’m sorry. No wonder she was all bent out of shape when I called her a babe.” Daisuke whined. “It was an honest mistake! I’d never lay a seductive hand on her. NOTHING but respect for her and what she does.”

“I know, I know you didn’t mean it. But we can make up for it little by little by making it easier on her. Can you do this for Anya, Daisuke?” Curly lied out his ass with a geyser of shame blowing off in his core, but he kept going. He couldn’t stop himself now if he tried. It was all for her, to keep her dignity. It wasn’t his story to tell.

“I’d do anything for Anya!”

“You’re a good man, Daisuke.” Curly smiled. “Please, never let go of that sincerity.” Daisuke peered at Curly questionably, but the older man refused to elaborate. The Captain stood slowly, his knees popping. The intern stood in unison and peered up at him with uncertainty. “It will be over soon. Let’s make this quick.” Curly had no idea what came over him, but he clutched Daisuke’s shoulder firmly, which had the desired effect of reassuring him. That’s what adults do. Take care of those who come after.

---

Daisuke and Curly stood before Anya’s bed, peering down at its pastel and strawberry design. In another lifetime, given the chance, he would have poked the woman and complimented her on her taste in decoration. He had done it once before with a bag he had seen her carrying, which must have been a mistake because he never saw that bag again. That level of genuineness is what drew the man to the nurse. Unfortunately, that was not the world he lived in. Curly continued to disappoint Anya, even though he didn’t mean to. It was growing more certain that what they had hoped for was just another fantasy. Their conversation in the hall outside her room didn’t bode well, and an unbearable feeling gnawed at the back of his skull like a relentless beaver. It was clear that coming to her room without her was a mistake, but one that could potentially be corrected. Having Daisuke at his side was a powerful storm barrier that effectively delayed the inevitable. There was still time to figure out what to do.

But why, Jimmy? Why was she asking about him? Shouldn’t she be avoiding him? Coming out of the Medical Bay was such a risk, one she shouldn’t be taking right now in the aftermath of his violent outburst. Was it just another mistake to let her walk away? She was clearly emotionally distressed. Shit. Should he stop and go after her? Or send Daisuke? Nothing felt right. His thoughts were a blur of racing colors. Everything was wrong; there were no right choices. Just choices. Choosing not to choose was a choice in itself. It wouldn’t take that long to drag her mattress to the Medical Bay. Truthfully, he could’ve done it all on his own. Emotionally, it was just easier with a friend. Yes. A friend.

“I see now.” Daisuke’s voice broke the silence. “You and Anya are fighting. That makes a lot of sense.

“I-I don’t know what you mean,” Curly responded without taking his eyes off the mattress. The very same mattress where Jimmy…Jimmy, he…where he…

“If I had to guess, I’d say you have the hots for her!” Daisuke joked around but quickly cut himself short as soon as he noticed how milky the Captain’s eyes were.

“Okay, now I really have no idea what you mean.”

“Well, it’s obvious to me, well to EVERYONE but you, of course. You’re hot, she’s hot. Old. A match made in heaven. We’ve noticed how you eye her.” Daisuke grinned.

“Anya is not old, and whether she is hot or not doesn’t negate the fact that I’m almost old enough to be her father.”

“Bullshit. You’re like what? Ten years older than her? Chicks dig the hell out of silver foxes.”

“Okay, now I think you’re doing this on purpose to confuse me.” And yet Curly fiddled with his hair and pondered how noticeable the strands of gray were. Nothing to be ashamed of. At least he still had his hair, and he couldn’t say that for the rest of the men in his family.

“She’ll forgive you.” The intern said barely over a whisper, but the older man caught his words and said nothing in response. “People fight…when they care. If they didn’t…they wouldn’t bother. Sometimes it’s just hard to reach each other. We fight because we want the other to understand.” Daisuke sat long and hard on those words, as if exploring something profoundly personal.

“People are hard, and I’m probably the worst one of them all. I knew what I had to do, but I couldn’t do it. Too afraid to rock the boat.” Curly stared intently at the bed, contemplating whether he should strip the mattress or lug it as is. It would be less cumbersome without the added girth and chose the path of least resistance. The man grabbed fistfuls of the soft plush fabric and methodically yanked at the material. It slid without catching and revealed the standard-issued sheets below it. The bare mattress stopped the man dead in his tracks. He eyed it warily, scanning it for any signs of that night, and in a cold sweat, he swore he saw the stains bleeding through the fabric.

“Captain?” Daisuke’s voice was muffled and far away.

Curly couldn’t escape it, the truth. This is where it took place. Where…where Jimmy…Jim, where his lifelong friend…r…raped her.

Even in his own mind, the word was terribly painful to say. Repeating it made it real. The sound of it was like pulling a tooth out from its roots. He wondered how Jimmy had done it, what he had done to her. Did he hold her down? Smother her? Pull each piece of delicate clothing off one by one? Before he…he…he…

“YO, Hey man, what’s wrong??” Daisuke had grabbed Curly by the shoulder, returning the reassuring gesture in kind. “You’re freaking me out. What happened? Did you see something? Why did you scream?”

Without realizing it, the Captain had let out a small cry. He slowly turned his head towards the younger man, unsure of how he could explain himself. His arms slackened, and he returned to the bed once more.

“You’re going to grow up to be a good man. A kind man. One who knows when to be gentle and fair, but also knows how to make the tough calls. How to protect. Doing what’s right isn’t always easy. But you’ll do it. I know you can. Take the risks. Rise to the challenge.” Curly swallowed hard. “And whatever you do, don’t be like me.”

“C-curly?...Something terrible happened…didn’t it? To Anya. That's really why we are doing this, right?” Daisuke shook and stepped closer to the bed. Eying it closely as if he could see what the other man had seen. “Should I…be worried?”

“No.” Curly quickly shook his head. “It’s going to be fine. We are all going to go home and go on with our lives, and we will never have to set foot on another spaceship again. Anya is…okay, she’s going to be okay…so, let’s do this as quickly as possible, alright?” Curly yanked off the blanket and the sheet, threw the pillows to the side. Very carefully, he folded the covers before setting them down on the desk. “We can come back for them.” He nodded slowly. “We will make quick work of the mattress with the two of us.” Daisuke stood there like a deer in the headlights as if he had never been asked to lift something before. The transition of Curly’s scattered thoughts was too much for him. “I’ll be in the front…”Curly continued. “It’s going to be a little awkward because we will have to carry it on its side. But we can take it nice and steady, no need to rush. That makes sense, doesn’t it? Daisuke?”

At the sound of his name, the intern leaped into action. He made his way to the headboard and scrambled to pull the twin over on its side. Curly watched as Daisuke struggled to maintain his grip, and the mattress threatened to hit the frame once more.
“Hold on, hold on,” Curly mumbled under his breath as he gripped the front of the beast. “It’s awkward, but shouldn’t be too heavy.” Daisuke nodded in response. The silence was easier. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t tell him.

---

The entirety of their trip was in utter silence, with nothing more than a grunt or wheeze whenever the mattress started to slip. At the very least, they weren’t expected to drag it up the stairs. There was no one else to stop or question their activities. Even if Swansea had heard his silly little panic attack earlier, he didn’t care enough to question it. They followed the path Curly should have walked earlier through the lounge and straight on to the Medical Bay.

“Alright, here we are,” Curly muttered under his breath as they approached the door. He braced himself to face Anya again. She would be there and waiting for his response. There was no time left to stall. The Captain braced himself for an impact that never came as the door to the Medical Room slid open without hesitation. It wasn’t locked. Curly wasn’t sure how many more panic attacks he could handle. His heart dropped. She didn’t listen to him; she didn’t do as she was asked. His authority as Captain meant nothing to her, and he couldn’t even be angry with her for feeling that way.

There wasn’t any more time to allow himself to slip into a string of unending questions as he ducked into the room. Daisuke in tow. It was readily apparent to even him that something was off. There was no one occupying the room. It was dead silent, and not even the sound of Anya’s radio accompanied them. Curly allowed himself to follow through on the task at hand before leaping into another spiral. He and Daisuke carefully slid the mattress behind the Nurse’s station, where it would be out of view of the door.

“Yikes,” Daisuke uttered with no further elaboration, but to confirm what they were both thinking. The boy had scooted away from the corner and shuffled awkwardly in circles with his hands jammed into his jeans pockets. Curly stood slowly, remaining in front of the foot of the mattress.

“Thanks for your help, Daisuke. I can handle the rest.” Curly stated. He attempted to give the intern a reassuring smile, but he could feel the corners of his lips twitch. Daisuke didn’t return the favor. He continued to ponder the pale linoleum of the floor. “I uh…Hmm, I think you should get back to work. Swansea is probably looking for you.”

“Right, yeah, yeah, I should do that,” Daisuke mumbled. He looked on edge, as if he desperately wanted to say something more, as if there was anything that could be said. “I uh..” He kicked the floor, then rubbed his shoe across its smooth surface, emitting an annoying squeak. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Daisuke. You will be fine. Anya will be fine. What happened here isn’t your fault. Just leave it up to me, the crusty old man. It’s my job to figure it out.” Curly’s tone was lighter. “I know you want to help, but it’s not my business to tell Anya’s story. And you’re just going to have to be okay with that.”

“I understand.”

“It’s distressing to fight with the people you are trapped with in a tiny tin can like this, but what happened between us won’t affect you. Okay? Okay.” His attempt to console the intern was two-sided, as he intended to convince himself that what he said was true.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. There’s a lot of time to fix things, too, right?”

“Of course, Daisuke. This is just a minor setback. You don’t have to sweat over my shortcomings. I’ll get you back safe and sound. After all, machines are much easier to understand than people.” Curly stepped backwards from the mattress in the corner and made his way to the intern’s side. “I’m going to take care of this, take care of you. It’s my job.” Daisuke glanced up and the older man’s face and matched his awkward smile.

The Tulpar shook, and the lights above them flickered on and off. Both men lost their footing from the shock wave and fell to the floor. In the dead silence, Daisuke’s cries emanated from the darkness. As quickly as the lights went out, the scenic screen behind them clicked on again. The two were blanketed in a harsh red glow and wretched shadow.

From the floor, Curly twisted his neck to view the screen in horror as its pixels screeched a relentlessly blinking message: “WARNING.” He barely took notice of his companion, who had doubled over on his knees, shaking in complete terror.

“What’s going on??” Daisuke screamed as he struggled to push himself back up to his knees. Curly had no answer as the alarm in the hallway started to moan. It was slow at first and quickly picked up pace and volume, creating an overwhelming cacophony and visual stimulation. Slowly, as he gathered his bearings, the Captain turned his head to look at the boy, halfway to tears. The light from the revolving fixture in the hall cycled through a cast of deep shadow and light on Daisuke’s face.

“Stay here,” Curly stated. His voice was hollow with a fake sense of calm as he scrambled to his feet.

Footsteps could be heard above the blare of the incessant foghorn. Two meaty hands were slammed onto the door frame, followed by the girth of a man not much older than the Captain himself. His breath was frantic, and the hair that remained on his head was plastered to his scalp with sweat. The man’s full face and beady eyes ran over the two on the floor. With a firm grip, he pushed himself into the room. As the entire vessel shook, he slipped and scuttled across the floor towards them.

“There you fucking are, you nitwit!” The great and wise Swansea had finally appeared in the story. No longer capable of avoiding the chaos around them. It was impossible to say whether he was addressing the Captain or the intern.

“S-Swansea!” Daisuke called out in relief. Amongst the convulsing, he struggled to stand on his own two feet, and just as he was about to fall, the mechanic grabbed him by the arm and hoisted him back again. Insistent on keeping his lifeline tethered to the much younger man.

“What’s the situation, Captain?!” Swansea yelled as he struggled not to be drowned out by the siren. Curly eyed him carefully. He didn’t have an answer for his long-time co-worker, and there was no time to come up with an explanation or excuse.

“I don’t know!” Curly strained.

“Where are the others??” Swansea probed. The back light of the alarm orbited his form.

“I don’t know!” Curly shouted.

“Then what good are you?!” The older man scoffed. He joked despite the intense fear stretched across his face.

“I’m about to find out!” The Captain screamed, just inches from the mechanic's face. “I need you to take care of Daisuke for me! I’m going to the cockpit. No matter WHAT you see or hear, STAY here. Don’t leave this room until I come back and give you the all clear!” The longer their conversation went on, the more the vessel shook. Swansea swung around in quick desperation and grunted.

“Well, you better stop wasting fucking time! This can is about to implode!”

“I know!” Curly side-stepped Swansea and sprinted out of the door. Behind him, he could hear the intern's cries.

“C-Captain!” Daisuke cried.

“Just stay there, Daisuke, PLEASE. I’ll be back! I promise!” Curly called out behind him before taking a sharp right and down the sprawling stairs. Once or twice, he felt himself slipping, but held fast until he made it to the last step.

Anya.

He called out her name in the back of his mind. She wasn’t in the lounge or the sleeping quarters. There weren’t a whole lot of other places she could have been, and Swansea hadn’t seen her on his Journey to the Medical Bay. He hoped and wished and prayed that, by some miracle or coincidence, they missed each other. Slipped around each other in the hallway.

Then his thoughts turned to the man he ordered to the cockpit. The one he trusted with his life. The one whom he had faith in, to at least not kill them all. No matter how bad things got. No matter how bad Jimmy had felt in the past, with his mood swings, his tantrums, or his fear and guilt. All the broken, shattered pieces scattered around the feet of that man, he truly believed in Jimmy’s desire to go on. To be better. That life was more than what they had. It didn’t matter that he fucked up, made mistakes, or ruined the lives of other people. He wanted to live! Curly knew it for sure! It had to be true. There was no way in this Universe that the man he called his best friend would ever want to end it all! It HAD to be a mistake! An error in the system, something that was unavoidable. Something they could FIX TOGETHER!

How could you do this to us, Jim???!!

The alarms, THE ALARMS. They grew louder and louder, became more frequent. The Captain cried out to the young woman and received no response in return. The closer he got to the cockpit, the fewer places there were left for Anya to be.

Nononononononoononothiscan’tbe! She wouldn’t!!! Why, Anya, why?? Why didn’t you do as I asked???

As he rounded the corner, Curly tried to scream her name one last time, “Any-!!” He stopped short. There on the ground just outside the hall to the cockpit was Jimmy. There on the floor in the fetal position. He had his head in his hands as he rocked himself back and forth. Not even the violent vibration of the ship broke him from his trance.

“Jimmy! What happened?? What did you do?? Tell me you didn’t, you didn’t do this on purpose!” Curly paused for a mere moment to yell at his friend on the ground. There wasn’t any time, and the questions fell on deaf ears. It was pointless. He had to act. No more stalling, there was no time left to ponder or question what else could have been done. Curly had to go. He had to stop this and, just maybe, maybe after all of this was over, he could do better. Be better.

And still, Anya was nowhere to be seen.

The Captain flew down the hallway, stumbling and falling into the walls as he went. Whatever they were about to crash into must have been massive, huge, to have such a phenomenal effect on their tiny vessel. The alarm continued to flash, and the screams were relentless. No longer the drone of a machine. He could hear women. Children. Human beings crying out in fear, desperately begging to be rescued. Fix this. Save them. There was still time, just a bit more time, that’s all he needed. If he could just reach the cockpit, he could avoid an impact. If anyone could do it, Curly could do it. He knew he could, he just needed a little more-

The door to the cock pit flew open. A blood bath brightly lit the room. Every monitor displayed the same message on repeat: “Crash Imminent.” He just had to throw himself at the console. Sit down, veer right or left, or up or down, didn’t matter. The room was hot, so hot. Sweltering. Curly could feel the blaze as he hoisted himself into the room, barely able to keep his balance. But it wasn’t the console that caught his focus.

There she was.

Anya.

On the floor, twisted in a crumbled pile behind the pilots’ chairs. Her milky eyes stared mindlessly at the ceiling. A stream of blood drained from her forehead and pooled around her cheek, which was pressed against the ground.

Nothing. He heard nothing. Not even the sound of his own scream.

Without a second thought, he flew towards her with an outstretched hand. He didn’t have a moment to spare to check if she was even alive. But there was a chance, one small hope. He could save her. If she stayed here with him, he would do nothing more than drag her down with him. Curly was doomed, no doubt about it. There was no way out. Every action and inaction he made in his life led up to this very moment. A fuck up, a failure. But still, if he could do one last thing in his miserable, pathetic existence before calling it quits. This would be it.

Curly hoisted the woman over his shoulder. Her dead weight threatened to escape his grasp. He took a few steps forward. Just enough to catch the censor before throwing her with all of his might through the door. He watched her roll and tumble through the passageway. Just enough that her body landed well out of the door’s sensors. Before the door could even latch shut, the man was already in the Captain’s chair. Even to sit in that chair was excruciatingly painful. Every ounce of instinct begged him not to grab the wheel. But he did. His entire body seized up, and he could feel the skin of his hands as they melted to the harsh metal and plastic. Jimmy might have been the one to light the match, but Curly watched him do it. He did nothing to stifle the flame, and it had grown into an uncontrollable forest fire.

Curly hated himself.

But that was okay because it was almost over.

The tips of his hair singed and burned away, and all moisture in his body had begun to evaporate. They had flown right into an asteroid field, and he had been a fool to miss it. Every impact, every bang, every scrap was a giant rock careening through space and right into them. A large metallic grind could be heard above him, and the last sound that reached his ears was the smooth release of the ship's insulation foam. It piled up at his feet. Threatening to encase him completely. But he couldn’t let go, even as the searing liquid fell and covered his hands. He could no longer feel it. There wasn’t enough left of him to feel it. Absolute terror consumed him, but there was nothing he could do as the foam had completely cemented his feet to the floor. There was no escape.

The Captain closed his eyes and, one last time, dreamed of that far-off lake. The sunset reflected off the water’s edge. Crickets buzzing in his ears. What would he do tonight? He asked himself. Would he go fishing? Or would he simply stare out over the water and know that everything was right and good in this world? A warm hand on his arm. Curly, just Curly, no longer the Captain of anything, looked up towards the owner of that hand. There she was with a smile. Anya. She looked beautiful with her hair tied back and wearing a bright, flowery sundress. In her hands were two glasses of cool lemonade. One which she pressed up against his blistering face, and he winced at the sudden shock. The woman threw her head back and laughed before setting the drinks down on the table. Without words but with a look in his eyes, he invited her to take a seat next to him, and she obliged. Anya insisted on his taking a sip, and he couldn’t say no. It was sweet, just the way she liked it, just like her. It might not have been to his tastes, but it made her happy, and all he wanted to do was make her happy.

Just this once.

Right at the end of all things.

Notes:

I am a big fan of The Lord of the Rings. It's dangerous to write anything with that ambiance in the background. I don't claim ownership of the last line!

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Chapter 6: Melted Fingers

Notes:

Have fun with Jimmy's POV this time around, everyone!
Every time I write a new chapter, I tell myself, Wow, this was difficult. Getting into this headspace was a challenge.
Jimmy is a confusing person, to say the least. In some ways, I want him to be sympathetic. I don't want him to come off as a cartoon villain.
I will say now that I am doing my best to be respectful when it comes to writing a severe mental illness.

TW: Mild descriptions of gore

Jimmy hung over the body of the woman. She lay lifeless, blood oozing from her forehead, plastering her face in a bloody pool on the floor. The man’s arms were outstretched, hands hovering over her figure. He was just moments away from becoming the hero of this story, but that damned woman managed to get away again. It was annoying enough that she felt the need to interrupt with that irritating conversation, but then she had to go and get herself killed. Or at least he figured she was dead. Jimmy couldn’t risk touching her body. Anya was still, fearfully rigid. Her eyes were partially cracked, and her gaze was glossy and empty. What was she thinking, touching him like that? If she left it all well and good alone, he wouldn't have resorted to hitting her. He had no choice but to defend himself. She had no right to lay her hands on him. Didn’t Curly lecture her as well? Jimmy grumbled under his breath. It wouldn’t be surprising to him at all if Curly patted her on the ass and reassured her that she was right in believing that their co-pilot was a piece of shit asshole. Traitor, of course, Curls would do that. He’d do anything for a bit of pussy. It’s too bad that he failed to put this bitch on a shorter leash.

I bet he didn’t shake her around like he did me! Nice show of favoritism. How is that fair? Anya this, Anya that. Perfect little angel. Would he have felt that way if he had seen the way she treated me earlier? Beat up on poor Jim, the easiest target. The BAD guy.

If he were truly the loathsome scum they believed him to be, he would kick her corpse across the room. But he thought better of it. Jimmy didn’t WANT to hurt Anya. It’s not as if he hated the woman; it was just infuriating how often she poked and prodded and challenged him. At times, he even found her amusing, almost attractive. But she couldn’t help but stick her foot in her mouth. A common trait for women, they always had something to bitch and complain about. Contradictory and confusing, too. This is what she wanted until it wasn’t what she wanted. But no matter how much he hated her, he couldn’t bring himself to twist the knife. Underneath all the hatred and the anger was something else: concern? It couldn’t be; they were all going to die, it didn’t matter how she went. Even if they were eventually found after their tragic demise, they would be dead. It didn’t matter who took the blame.

That’s what you tell yourself, isn’t it? Worthless, worthless child. Oh, wait, you’re not a child anymore, are you? Running away again, just like you always have.
Shut up, shut up. Shut up. I’m not running away! It’s not my fault, this world is a godforsaken shit hole!

Are you sure? Are you sure it’s not because you fucked around and knocked her up? Afraid of two bouncing babies in your arms? You could’ve been an amazing dad. Just like your father.

Fuck you, and fuck him. You stupid whore, you have no idea who my dad even is! Go away, you ruined my life!

Waah waah! That’s what you sound like. Grow up. You men, you're all alike, little pricks. All violent, every one of you, when shaking your dick around, didn’t work. You just took the next step. Coward. When will you learn that your actions have consequences?

I don’t have to listen to some bitch go on about consequences. Maybe if you were a nice church going woman, your brains wouldn’t have ended up splattered all over the kitchen wall! And what a SIGHT that was!

…

Nothing left to say? Good, kindly sit in your corner and shut the hell up!

Jimmy whipped around and inspected every crack and cranny, squinting his eyes to clear his blurry vision: nothing, no one. Nothing but the light gasps emanating from the woman on the floor. Gasps! She’s breathing! She’s alive! The man felt a chilling relief. But why be relieved? Why was he happy? He stooped over the woman, closely examining her face before briefly cupping her cheek. Anya let out a shudder as if acknowledging his touch, but quickly settled back into her stupor. Jimmy shook his head. All of this was senseless. Why bother checking? Could it have been possible that the woman had sewn seeds of doubt into his mind? No, no, it wasn’t possible. He had never been more sure in his life. They will all go out together, as a crew, as a family. Together. This was his last chance to save himself. They would talk highly of him, all of them after they were gone. Not a criminal or a deranged psychopath. Just an honest man. A working man, someone who put in the time but never found his leg up. Maybe their deaths would be the catalyst for dragging this damned company through the mud. They will be remembered as the crew who defeated this bastard of a capitalist corporate demon known as Pony Express.

At least, that’s how everyone else felt about them. Sure, the food sucked and the hours were long. But after every shift, Jimmy had a bed to curl up in and friends to chill and play board games with. Yes, even Anya. Especially how she would rage when she lost, now that was funny. If only she could be that person all the time. If she and Curly weren’t plotting against him, none of this would have ever happened. They didn’t care about his security or his well-being. The two of them were screwing off in a corner somewhere every chance they got. Pony Express tossing them to the curb ruined HIS life, but the same couldn’t be said about the others. Everyone else had something to fall back on, and they weren’t even grateful when he included their strife. That damn nurse felt like she had the right to lecture him as if he were in detention.

The thought of their superiority brought the man’s blood to a boil. They deserved this, every single one of them. There was no going back for them now. He wasn’t a murderer. He wasn’t about to beat the life out of that damned woman. But to hell with her and to hell with Curly. There was no way he would return to Earth to rot while the others got to live out their joyous little fantasies.

It wasn’t fair. None of it was fair. It wasn’t his fault that he was born to some bitch who stole everything meaningful from his life. Curly couldn’t understand. Living in that massive house with his even bigger family, never having to worry about whether the water was running or not.

“If only you kept any of your promises,” Jimmy murmured under his breath with vitriol. “I can’t wait for the Tulpar to be torn to shreds. Obliterated.”

And I’ll go with it. I wonder what that release will be like…

Anya had landed directly in front of the center console as one last pathetic limp dick attempt to stop him. Jimmy dug his heel into the woman’s side before rolling her over and away from the controls. There was no protest from the Nurse, just as it was the last time he had his way with her. As he stepped forward, there was a slight crunch under his boot. It startled the man for a second, but on quick inspection, he noted that it was the woman’s glasses. Broken in two, and those he brushed to the side as well.

Without another word, he glanced up one last time at the main screen, which desperately warned the man of their impending demise, working as well as it could to save them.

But it was too late.

Jimmy slammed his fist down on the red button. In an instant, the screens flipped from their mind-numbing green to an alarming red. The cockpit screamed in anguish. CRASH IMMINENT blinked rapidly across his corneas.

This was it! Front row seat to the end of the world!

The end of the world?

Hundreds of questions rattled inside the co-pilot's mind.

But at the forefront of them all was something else. A different feeling altogether. As the sweat billowed on his palms, he turned to run from the light, the blood, and the death. But as his foot made an impact on the floor, it made contact with the body of the woman. The force sent him flying over her form and smashing face-first into the ground. His sudden anxiety couldn’t be faltered, and through the pain, he scrambled to his feet and ran through the door. Abandoning his deeds and leaving Anya to reap the rewards of his desires.

Jimmy couldn’t fathom what was happening. The alarm and the voices were so loud! Everyone was here, and they all held fast to his arms and legs. Ripping him in one direction to the next. The whispers in his ears spoke nothing but lies—faceless forms, dark shadows in the corners of his eyes.

Fear.

Fear? They were wrong!

What did he have left to be afraid of?

Nothingness?

Would it hurt? Or would they all go quickly? Would his brain even be able to process that fraction of a second of pain before the end? And did it even matter?

But what else?

What if he didn’t die? What if it wasn’t enough of an impact to kill them? Being maimed in space would be a fate worse than death.

Nononono, I don’t want to die!

What the hell do you mean? You don’t want to die? That was the objective, the end goal! Why are you backing out now??

I wanted it to end! All of it, the pain, the annoyance, the betrayal. Dying was the only answer, wasn’t it?

The passage before the man was unfamiliar to him. It twisted and turned, and every door he entered led him straight to a dead end. Jimmy’s breathing was heavy and labored. No matter which way he turned, it was all the same! There was no exit, no way out. They were all going to die! And all for what? Because of that damned woman and that god forsaken horse!
“Ahh!” Jimmy cried and fell back into the doorway. That FUCKING horse! The Polly statue stood unblinking, its arm held high. “What?! You have something to say? You son of a bitch! You’re in my way! MOVE!” It was crazy of him. That fucking thing and its prerecorded quips were all it could say. But this time, it was silent, which wasn’t something to be alarmed by. Maybe its batteries were dead. Did it even have batteries?

Oh, who in the fuck cares? What am I even doing?? This entire place is going to blow!

There was no way around the statue, and behind it was nothing but a solid wall. Jimmy had no other choice but to turn back around and take another route. But he could’ve sworn he had come down the right way. There was only one way back to the haul. It was loony to make such a critical mistake.

The ship shook, and the alarms screamed, but the hallways remained the same, with their sterile, fluorescent glow and piping that ran alongside them. As the man ran, electrical cords snapped and fell loose before his face and to the sides of him, sending a smattering of sparks in all directions. It was happening, and nothing could stop it. The asteroid was tearing them apart! There was no time to second-guess or question where he was going. He just had to go and hope and pray that the exit would find him quickly. Maybe there was a chance that if he could get as far away from the point of impact as possible, he would be fine. He would live. Curly would be fine, too; he had to be still dicking around with that mattress. The fires wouldn’t get him from over there.

What of that woman? What could he possibly say about her? She’d be dead; there’s no way she would survive such a thing. As he ran, a twisted smile sprouted across his face. This is perfect! Perfect! Everyone of them had access to the cockpit. Not just him! It would be easy to tell Curly that poor bitch of a woman had a relapse in judgment. She couldn’t handle Curly’s betrayal of choosing his best friend over her! Alone in the world with a couple of babies in tow, she couldn’t handle the thought! Anya wouldn’t even have to understand the controls to ravish them! Brilliant!

All Jimmy had to do was figure out how to get out of this fucking maze!

Everything could go back to the way it was! He and Curly could go home together! As heroes who survived the end of the world.

They were going to be okay!

Footsteps. A soft pitter-patter of small feet echoed above the alarm. In the corner of the man’s eye, he saw him—a brief glimpse of a figure running out of sight around the corner of the maze. Impossible, the stature of the person escaping his gaze didn’t match any of his fellow crew members. It couldn’t have been more than a child.

There wasn’t any time for him to pursue a child. It was every man for themselves, trapped together in this monstrosity of steel and bolts. With a huff, Jimmy made a break for the metal grate, purposefully leading himself in the opposite direction of their mysterious visitor.

As he sprinted through door after door into one dead end after another, he knew he was lost. It was ludicrous! It shouldn’t be this hard; it’s never been this hard. The alarm, the gases, and the eruption of foam must have been disorienting the man, but if he didn’t keep going, the disaster awaiting him would catch up. He flung himself through a door on his right, twisting and turning into an impossible circle as if he had entered a never-ending staircase. However, the door he had entered into the belly of the beast never turned back. There were no doors on either side, and the man had no other choice but to continue forward. The walls around him were plastered with those damned Pony Express motivational posters. Upside down and posted in a nonsensical manner, the farther down the line he went, thousands of them lined the floors and the ceilings. They overlapped each other by the dozens, to the point where he could no longer make out their inscriptions. What was the point of any of this? Even in the man’s haste and exhaustion, he smirked. Even in his dreams, he wasn’t allowed to escape the all-seeing eye of that god damn fat bastard.

Jimmy desperately wanted to lie down. Even the mounds of paper would suffice as a place to rest his head. He needed sleep, craved it like a parched plant turning brown around the edges. It was cruel of Curly to send him back to work after all he had been through. A true monster. His head throbbed, and not even the adrenaline was enough to keep his weary eyes open. If he were a lesser man, he would break down and sob in frustration. It wasn’t tears that wept from his eyes, but sweat billowing from his forehead and down his neck, soaking his white shirt in salt and stench. The immeasurable heat of the impact lit the metal walls ablaze. Jimmy loathed the idea of crawling into his clean sheets, a disgusting piss-filled mess, but he doubted his ability to wash the bile away after this sprint. But who needed to crawl back into bed when taking a brisk nap under a cool faucet was a genius idea. Jimmy smiled, imagining the ghost of rain pouring over his matted hair.

BANG!!, followed by a cool hiss as the pressure from a nearby foam sprinkler exploded mere inches from the man’s body. Jimmy leaped back in surprise. The hallway in front of him filled mercifully with foam, leaving all but a cave mere inches high suspended over the ground. The foam was encrusted over the entire hall, covering the ceiling, floors, and walls. Their volume drowned out the fluorescent lights and muffled the alarm. Jimmy, on closer inspection, could even make out the erosion of the white foam as it slowly crumbled and fell away. The ship's shaking made the impermeable foam unstable. Even if he could cram his broad shoulders through the crack of an opening, there was no guarantee he wouldn’t get stuck or have the entire mass collapse on his head. It was too dangerous, so he had no choice but to turn back and find another way.

“POLLY SAYS, YOU CAN DO IT, CAPTAIN!” A garbled and broken voice sounded out behind the man, causing him to fall back into the tunnel and onto the floor. Behind him was the statue of that goddamn horse again. Blocking his escape route back to where he came from. The door behind the great beast was broken and twisted off its hinges, and the room behind it was sealed with foam. All of this must have been this fucking creature's fault! It’s been following the co-pilot this entire time, mocking his advances, twisting and manipulating the halls to trap him in this loop. If only Jimmy had the strength left to tear that horse's head from its fat neck!

Giggling. The sound of a child's laughter, muffled but loud, bounced off the walls of the tunnel. Jimmy turned his head slowly and, with his hands, gripped the sides of the tunnel. A dozen meters or so at the end of the line was a pair of big blue eyes peering at him from the opening. The boy's golden hair curled perfectly around his chunky face. When Jimmy made eye contact with the boy, he broke out in a wide, toothy smile, revealing a missing tooth on the left side of his mouth. Humorously, the boy pressed his tongue up against the gap and laughed again, running his little sausage fingers through his brightly colored hair.

“C-Curly?” Jimmy stammered, his eyes were wide, and he struggled for breath. The man was mistaken; Curly was here all along. He wasn’t safe in the Medical Bay, but wandering these dangerous halls alone. Trapped there all the same as he was. “W-what are you doing here?” he gulped and shimmied his wide build into the gap. “What are you, an idiot? Can’t you see it’s dangerous here? You have to run! There isn’t any time to play your stupid games!” Jimmy yelled, but as if he couldn’t hear him, Curly crossed his arms in front of him on the tunnel's edge and lay his head down on them. Rolling his neck back and forth, continuing to laugh as if nothing was amiss.

A slight cool breeze brushed the man’s cheek. On the other side of the tunnel was a fresh summer’s day. One that was partly cloudy, partnered with a bright blue sky. He could have sworn he smelled the hint of grass in the air. Wherever Curly was, the sunshine was pleasant and not the threat of a great star. The boy beckoned him over, lazily pulling him over with the wave of his hand.

“So close, yet so far. That about sums us up, doesn’t it? You were always there, taunting me from just over the ridge. With the promise of something better, easier. Worth living for. Can’t you see, Curls? I’ll never get there. If only I were born on that side with you. "Jimmy dropped his head to the foam in defeat. The acidity of the foam stung his face, but he barely reacted.

It wasn’t fair, none of it was fair. This wasn’t the life he chose; it was the one he was given—an inescapable one.

So why? Here at the end, did he fight so hard to go on?

“Oh woooow, look at you. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so pathetic in your life!” A feminine voice greeted his question. “Go on, just lie down and die! It’s what everyone wants, after all.” The voice sneered. Jimmy rose from the foam and, with significant fatigue, glared at the figure before him.

Anya.

She stood tall above him with her arms across her chest. Her expression was made all the more unpleasant by the tacky blue glasses she wore on her face.

“You don’t speak for the others, you stupid bitch.” He spat. Fists clenched as he dragged his bare knuckles across the rough grit of the foam. “I left you half dead. Why are you here?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I love to watch you grovel in pain. Crying out about your poor, sad, pathetic life.” She threw her hands up and laughed. “Curly told me ALL about it after all. So how was it, really? Being that kid who smelled like piss in school?”

“Oh, he told you that, did he? Well fuck you and fuck him!” Jimmy snarled. He dug his feet into the ground, but his spent legs struggled to lift him.

“You are one big hypocrite, aren’t you, Jimmy? You had no problem speaking for everyone else at Curly’s Birthday Party when you threw your little tantrum. You made such a fool of yourself. If I were Curly, I’d have knocked you right on your ass.” Anya mocked. “But to be honest, this is even better. If the last thing I see before I die is you crying on your knees, I’d be satisfied.”

“Heartless. Just like I knew you were. No idea what Curls saw in you outside of your big rack.” The man wheezed. The heat of the hall was starting to get to him, and the alarm pounded on his cranium as if it were a drum. Infuriatingly so, there stood Anya. Cool and processed as if the world around her wasn’t crumbling and fading away.

“One last quip, another little jab. Keep them coming, Jimmy. You can’t hurt me with them anymore.” She sighed. “After all, you already killed me.”

Jimmy gasped as he watched Anya’s face twist into a demonic sneer before the skin of her face singed and burned. Turning pink and then black. Her eyes boiled and melted away from her skull, leaving nothing but hollowed-out sockets. He watched as her skin peeled back, exposing her pearly whites, and in his horror, instead of screaming out in pain, the woman smiled. Without her face, she stood tall, and her eyeless sockets peered deep inside his soul. Her nose turned to ash and fell to the floor, leaving her insides exposed for the world to see. The smell, God, the smell was more than the man could handle - the indescribable stench of burning hair and charred flesh.

And somehow she continued, “Not just a rapist, but a murderer too. That is your legacy if the world even bothers to remember. Look at me, Jim, don’t ever forget this face. YOU did this. You left me there to die. Oh, Jim, I was in SO much pain. So much so that you could never understand…or maybe you can.”

The woman stepped forward, and Jimmy let out a bone-chilling scream.

“Get away from me, Anya! I didn’t mean it, I thought it would have happened so fast! You shouldn’t have felt a thing. You weren’t even conscious!” The man cried out, but the charred woman kept up her limp. She raised a hand towards him, revealing its exposed bone and melted flesh. There was no way out but one through the tunnel of foam. Jimmy’s eyes flicked towards the other side of the tunnel, hoping and pleading that the boy was still there. But he wasn’t. The other end of the tunnel was splashed in red as the light of the alarm twisted and turned.

Curly had abandoned him again.

Anya had grown slow and silent as she reached to grab him. Her mouth hung limply open, and her tongue was ash in her mouth.

“Don’t touch me!” He screeched and swatted at her with the back of his head. The moment his hand made impact with the woman, her hand shattered into a plume of dust and flesh. Bathing the man in her remains. The visceral was enough to revitalize him. Jimmy stood, frantically scraping at his coveralls. Blood and ash smeared together in a vial concoction that caked itself underneath his cracked and torn fingernails. Quickly, the once blue denim had been stained a collage of red and brown, reeking of iron and sulfur. The putrid smell burned his nose and eyes, causing mucus to well up inside of them. He whimpered like a dog with its leg caught in a bear trap. In the spot where Anya once stood, the remains of a Polly statue rested. Its head had been severed from its body and had fallen a few feet away in front of the caved-in door. There was no way back; the only option was to continue forward.

Jimmy groped the entrance of the tunnel, leaving a print of blood on its white surface. The man peered through it. Curly must have been just as scared as he was, and that’s why he had run off. Jimmy had to find him. The Tulpar was no longer safe. He had to tell him to hide as quickly as his stumpy legs would take him. With no other choice, the Co-pilot hopped up into the tunnel, his head grazing the top of it. It would be tight, but he could make it like every cave explorer before him. The tunnel couldn't have been more than a foot high, and the walls squeezed his shoulders. The opaque material shrouded the tunnel in darkness, except for the one light that shone through from the other side. There wasn’t enough room to crawl, and he was forced to slither along the crevice on his belly like a snake, arms pinned to his sides. Inch by painful inch, he made steady but slow progress by pushing himself forward with the tips of his toes. It was nauseatingly hot in that tunnel, and Jimmy never considered himself claustrophobic, but even he would consider this excruciatingly tense. If the tunnel were to get any smaller, he would be trapped; there was no way to push himself back out the way he came. Groans erupted into screaming as if the excessive exertion would be what it took to make it the last yard. So close, just so close, the man told himself to ignore the scraping of the jagged ridges of the foam. Without even noticing, an outcrop scraped his forehead, and the wound oozed with blood, bleeding into his right eye. It wouldn’t stop him; this pain was nothing, he could handle it as long as he was alive.

Gaunt tufts of hair emerged from the exit first, followed by a hollowed-out face with bulging eyeballs, the pressure threatening to eject them from his skull. However, as grueling as his journey was and despite the stagnant air of the haul, the man took a gracious helping of the life-giving sustenance into his collapsed lungs. Without his arms free, he had to continue to pathetically inch forward, slowly lowering himself onto the metal grate until. Out of desperation, he tore the backsides of his hands to free them from their imprisonment as he wiggled and squirmed, freeing them one after another. With a triumphant cry, he braced his palms on the walls of the opening and, with great force, the man popped out and fell straight to the ground, knocking his head on the mesh surface. Jimmy’s sight was enveloped in a casing of bright stars that blotted out the harsh red light.

His consciousness dipped in and out as he swore he could hear children screaming in excitement before him. Was that where he was headed? This feeling was so familiar—a memory of steep cliffs and bubbling streams. The helicopter ride was so vivid in his mind. Jimmy was sure this had happened before. Or maybe not? The experience was exhilarating; he remembered the joy of camping in the woods. Was it camping? Was that what they were doing? He couldn’t recall, but for some reason, Curly was crying. It rained, and he had a fever; as a result, many events were hazy, but he knew those were real. All the bullshit that was happening now wasn’t real.

If only Jimmy would just allow himself to give up and rest. Just an hour of sleep would do. He’d wake up the next morning on the floor or hung over the kitchen counter. This was all a vivid hallucination. Nothing more than a terrible nightmare that tore open the ground like a hideous weed. It was all that damned Anya’s fault and her seduction of Curly. Their wrath rained down upon him to smite him out of vicious revenge. Over what? A joke? Women are so goddamn sensitive. It’s like walking on eggshells. Breathe wrong in their direction and they are offended. His job was amazing until they hired that incompetent woman.

But what if it was real? There had never been a moment in his life when he was willing to take that chance. He had to continue as if he had set the Tulpar in motion to crash, even if he really had a front row seat to witness Anya melting as if she had been struck with a nuclear bomb. Impossible, the dead don’t haunt the living. Dead is fucking dead. Nothing. THE END.

“Shit, Jimmy, you look like hell,” chuckled a calming voice that silenced all other noises around them. It was dead silent, and the only reminder of their imminent crash was the aggressive red overlay. “Who’d you kill? Or was this just another one of your attempts to kill yourself?” The stars had faded, and centered in his vision from the floor were two brown clad loafers. They looked like they would be hell to walk around in. Zero support. Perfect for piloting a ship for 48 hours straight.

Jimmy clumsily slid his bottom half from the tunnel while struggling to grip the metal grate below him. His breath was heavy, and sweat dripped from the end of his nose. He sat back and wiped his face with his sleeve, theatrically dragging it slowly across his face before looking towards the man who stood before him. It was Curly, as he knew him today. Not the plucky child who waddled away ahead of him. With clenched teeth, the co-pilot smirked with vitriol to pay respects to his old dear friend.

“Well fuck you too, bud. You could at least pretend to worry about me. I’m only in this mess because of you. You just COULDN’T help yourself but torture me one last time. How about doing me a favor and carrying me the last leg? We can call it even.” Jimmy chuckled low and hoarse. He was exhausted. Truly, this was the point when even he had to admit he couldn’t go on.

“Even? Seriously? The audacity you have to call us “even” as if I have ever put you out in your life. As I recall, it was you. Wasn’t it? The one who always causes trouble, the one who always needs to be bailed out. Now I see it, REALLY see how much of a mistake that has been. I should have bit the bullet and let you crash and burn a long time ago.” Curly’s face was clear of all emotion. From Jimmy’s angle on the ground, as he was, his good friend felt miles away above him. That air of superiority melted away his insides with acid.

“God, you are just full of piss and vinegar today, aren’t you?” Jimmy scoffed. He placed his hand at the end of the tunnel once more and used it as a jack to hoist himself up the rest of the way. The Captain was tall. Too tall. Several inches over the brown haired man’s head. With the use of his tippy toes, he might just be granted the privilege of staring the other man directly in the eye, as equals. “You love talking a big game. Just like you did a smidge earlier today. You weren’t able to take me down, and I was…AM sleep-deprived on top of it all. Face it, Curls, you’re weak. You’ve always been weak. We are only in the mess now because you can’t put your foot down.” Curly lurched forward and grabbed the nap of Jimmy’s collar, pulling the man so close to his face that Jimmy could swear he smelled sulfur on the Captain’s tongue. This aggression meant nothing to the co-pilot; Curly had never hit him before, and he never would. No matter how angry Curly gets, he swore never to clock his friend again. He knew better than to do so. It would be something he would immediately regret. Jimmy would make sure of it.

“Shut up, I am telling you now, not another word,” Curly spat, his brow was so caved in that they brushed the tips of his long, fair lashes. What right did Curly have to tell him to shut up? He wouldn’t allow it. Jimmy didn’t care about Curly’s bullshit position. Curly was no better off than he was, just a loser. Worthless. Bits of debris floating around in space. He might have called himself the Captain, but he was no more in charge than a toddler wearing his father’s clothes. It was all playacting—a paper-thin facade.

“This is about that woman? Of course it is, it has to be. Well, TOO BAD for you! She’s dead! Fucking dead, I made sure of it! Now I never have to listen to her bitch, moan, and cry. It was thrilling. I wish you were there to see it, Curls! Her skin melted right off her face. Her eyes boiled and shriveled to a crisp like a couple of cracked eggs! But what could I have done?? It was her fault after all, even after all the warnings, she still came to meet me. I told you, didn’t I? That bitch couldn’t keep her hands off me. All that crying about being assaulted. It’s all a load of horse shit. She was ASKING for it!” Jimmy cackled, allowing the spit to flow freely from his mouth, the frothy liquid splattered all over the Captain’s face. Curly didn’t even blink or wipe away his face in disgust. Those clear blue eyes never wavered. Jimmy saw no fear in the man’s face, and instead, he saw nothing but malice. It tainted the color of those brightly colored spheres.

The pain was searing white. Jimmy saw nothing as his legs gave out under him, and he slumped over. He would have fallen to the floor if not for that large man’s grip on his shirt. While gravity held his legs and pulled, Curly remained just as powerful as the two titans played tug of war with the man’s limp body. Jimmy’s shirt had been pulled up around his chin, choking him. He sputtered and coughed as Curly remained eerily quiet. Without Jimmy perceiving his movements, the Captain had back-handed his co-pilot in the cheek.

So that’s what it felt like to be hit by him as he is now. With arms the size of tree trunks, it was expected to feel like he had been hit in the face with a brick. There wasn’t enough willpower in the universe to keep the tears from welling up in the corners of his eyes. It hurt like a bitch. Through his clenched teeth, he whimpered, and a small sob escaped him.

Waah WAAH! Does it hurt Jimmy? My baby boy. Come to mommy, she will kiss it and back it better.

The mocking tone of that fucking woman was back. She took her chances in a moment of weakness and came crawling out of the shadows. He didn’t dare respond to her abuse. Not while Curly was watching.

A large hand grasped the underside of Jimmy’s face. Hard enough to squeeze the tears from his eyes into a trickling brook.

“Look at me!” Curly growled as he roughly twirled Jimmy’s head around his neck. “You worthless piece of crap! You killed us all. Do you have any idea what that means?! We are dead! All of us are dead! And for what? Did you have one of your little episodes? Did your mama tell you to do it? You’re insane! Actually insane. I should’ve thrown you into a padded room myself. Washed my hands of you completely! Oh, would I have taken GREAT pleasure in knowing you were being injected with chemicals until your head spun!”

Jimmy’s snarl warped and crushed itself into a thin line before twisting itself into a serpentine shape. Pathetic groans sputtered from his mouth. Curly had never uttered such a thing in his life. He wouldn’t dare to. Such blatant cruelty and disregard for everything they have gone through together. But maybe all of this was to be expected. That woman poisoned his mind and melded his friend into her little plaything. The vile vomit that spewed from his tongue wasn’t his words. They belonged to that WOMAN.

“You don’t mean it.” Jimmy sobbed. “It’s her! It’s all that woman's f-.” Before he was able to finish his sentence, his head struck the rigid wall of foam behind him.

“Agh!” The blonde man hollered and dropped his subordinate to the floor. “Delusional! That’s what you are, Jimmy. God, I hate you, I really, really hate you, and honestly, I’ve always hated you. The second my mother let you loose on me, my life was ruined. You were a little rabid flea-bitten mutt I should have kicked. But I didn’t. Just like everything else in my life, I didn’t have the nerve. I can admit that now. As if the confession would do me any good, now that I'm dead. We make the perfect team, you and I. You, a murderous lunatic, and me, I’m your cock-sucking whore.” Curly stooped down in front of Jimmy and smiled before brushing his aching cheek with the back of his hand. “At the very least, you’re dead too. The entire universe will be a better place without you.” Curly paused before his smile stretched into a painful grin. It was grotesque and inhuman, an impossibly long line of teeth. He leaned forward, brushing his lips up against Jimmy’s ear, and whispered. “Your eternity will be hell. You will know what it is like to be ripped in two in the same way you hurt so many others.” Jimmy pressed his eyes together and whimpered. It’s not real, it's not real. Go away, go AWAY!

“Get away from me, you freak!” Jimmy let out an ear-piercing cry and threw his arms in front of him in a desperate attempt to ward off his assailant.

But nothing, there was nothing. His arms made no impact with the Captain—nothing but hot stifling air. The quivering man cracked an eye and gazed towards the space Curly once occupied. Much like Anya, he was gone, but there was nothing left in his stead. Just the return of the wails of the alarm and the turbulence of a ship that was in the midst of walking its green mile.

It’s just you and me again. Like always. Sewn together at the hip like some foul, miserable chimera.

The broken-down man shrugged his shoulders and turned his head away from the voice. He was tired. So so tired. Sleep was weighing heavily on the man’s eyes. Round and round he had gone
with no end in sight. There was no way to determine if he had flown far enough from the crash site to avoid the impact of the collision. Visions clouded the man’s mind as he sifted through them in a desperate attempt to discern what was real and what was an illusion conjured from his imagination. If Anya was already dead, then his transgression had already transpired, and the co-pilot had come out the other side unscathed.

Impossible, such a thing would directly contradict the claim that the illusion of Curly had made. He said they were all dead, but if they were, does that make this his personal purgatory? To roam the narrow halls of the corpse of the Tulpar for all eternity? That couldn't be so. There was no life after death. When the end comes, there will finally be nothing. No more sweat, tears, exhaustion, or the pain of betrayal. Their very minds would cease to exist as if they had never been there at all. The only logical explanation for what he was experiencing now was a horrible nightmare created in the depths of his brain. To fight the illusions was a futile endeavor. The worlds of reality and fantasy were blended and shaped by the voice’s demands. They, too, eventually would grow tired and go dormant.

Jimmy felt the cool metal wall of the Tulpar lightly graze his lower back as he leaned forward. Drawing his legs up, he rested his chin on his knees and lowered his eyelids, content with allowing sleep to drown him in its depths. Even through the turbulence and wail of the alarm, he felt numb. Just a few moments of sleep. No more than twenty minutes to allow him to gather his bearings. He would be primed and ready for another twelve-hour flight if that is what was needed. None of this was real. Curly never roused him from his slumber, and Anya never cornered him in the cockpit. Time forever marched on. In eight months, they would be back on Earth again. The crew would go their separate ways, and he and Curly would return to the apartment to decide on their next venture. Best of all, he would never have to hear that annoying nurse’s voice ever again.

“Jimmy! What happened?!” A frantic and muffled voice called out before him, but Jimmy couldn’t recognize the figure. Even with eyes wide open, he refused to acknowledge the specter. No more, he couldn’t take the abuse any longer. The ghosts weren’t real, none of this real. Jimmy shifted slowly and sullenly, his legs slid down the grate of the floor, and with calloused hands, he covered his ears. He wouldn’t listen; he refused to. “What did you do??”

“...”

“Fuck! Tell me you didn’t, you didn’t do this on purpose!!” Curly? screamed.

Not there, not there, NOT THERE!

As quickly as the voice came, it vanished in a series of clomps down the hall towards the cockpit, not but a few yards from where he sat. The sound of the fireproof door swung open and closed again, sealing the raging torrent of fire inside.

Curly?

Jimmy lifted his head and looked towards the door. The foam that he traversed was gone with nary a trace ever to signal its existence. The bitter sting on his face from Curly’s punch was no more. It never happened, but the alarms were real, the tremors were real, and to the co-pilot's dismay, he didn’t make it very far from the impact zone. He sat merely a few yards from the scene of his crime. Curly, the Captain in all of his foolish bravery, did in fact make his way down to the cockpit to investigate the cause of their emergency.

“C-Curls?” Jimmy struggled to stand. He attempted to hoist himself up from behind, but the rocking of the ship sent him scattering on his backside, and still he had to keep trying. The man rolled over onto his knees and turned towards the door. Placing his hands on the wall, he brought himself to his feet. The exhaustion he once felt was dissipating into the air. “Curly…wait, don’t go. Come back. ”A loud and distant scream of desperation could be heard from within the inner room. “CURLS!” Jimmy’s sense of desperation erupted inside of him, and he quickened his pace. With one hand in front of the other, he pressed on, triggering the automation of the fire door.

The co-pilot gasped in alarm at the steam curling and rolling around the inner room before the cockpit. Its door warped and glimmered in the heat of the mirage, searing the man’s eyes. The boiling temperatures were well contained within the vestibule. It glowed a hellish red. Jimmy crossed his arms over his face to shield himself from the intense heat and stepped into the room.

Soft, plush. By his second step, Jimmy suddenly tripped over a large mass crumpled on the bottom of the vestibule. He let out a large cry as his face threatened to be branded by the smoldering door, but his foot was hooked on the creature, and he rolled to the side, landing directly on top of his obstruction. Kicking and scrambling with his feet, he grabbed fistfuls of the fabric in desperation to stand. There wasn’t time to dawdle! He braced himself against the mound and flung himself back into the entrance of the fireproof room as he continued to cling to the cloth.

Jimmy wheezed; his obstruction was the body of the woman he had abandoned to die. Curly must have thrown her from the cockpit in a crazed attempt to save her life.

No time, there was no time. The man leaped to his feet and barreled towards the molten door. It didn’t budge. The automation was fried, and the door was melted to its frame. Without thinking, Jimmy seized the handle of the door that flowed with the same flame.

He screamed. Instantaneously, his skin crisped and seared. His hands bubbled and steamed as the hot skillet cooked his flesh, melting his skin to the handle. Every finger was cooked black. The desire to let go consumed him as his body was repelled from the door. But he was glued tight. Jimmy yanked and twisted despite the agonizing pain until he severed his hands from his skin, leaving his prints behind to simmer on the metal.. He fell backwards again over Anya and smacked his head on the ground. Rolling and writhing in pain, he hollowed out repeatedly with his hands outstretched above him. The palms were red and scarred. Oozing with blood and yellow pus. There was nothing to ease his pain. Nothing he could grab or cover them in. The only thought left in his head is that if they stayed here, they were going to die and not quickly. He would die a slow-roasted death, begging for mercy until his skin turned black and peeled.

Not yet, not yet, that isn’t how he wanted to go. They were supposed to die quickly, never knowing what had happened. Jimmy rolled to his stomach, his eyes staring in horror at his melted flesh.

 

Curly was dead! A total idiot! What was he thinking running headlong into that furnace?

GOD DAMN IT! GOD DAMN IT, CURLY!!

Jimmy knew if they didn’t make it past the fire door, they weren’t going to survive. The direct line to the cockpit was flimsy. Quickly and painfully, he pushed himself up on his elbows, carefully making sure not to run his hands up against something. He was right in the doorway, and safety was just within his grasp. All Jimmy had to do was scoot far enough away from the door to get it to close.

But wait,

SHITSHITSHITSHIT!!

That god damn nurse was right there, crumpled in the doorway! The door would never shut because she was obstructing it. That massive explosion would blow right through! Pain in the ass until the very end!

With precision, Jimmy turned himself around to face Anya. She was sprawled out on her back, arms over her head and side. Unconscious and sweating profusely, but otherwise much like he had left her. Her head had stopped bleeding, and the blood that had caked itself over her face had begun to flake and peel off.

Despite how awkward and uncomfortable it was, he shoved his arms under the woman’s armpits. It was impossible to do without touching her with his bare, bloody hands, but the pain was worth enduring for the chance that they might live. He fell back on his ass, pulling the woman up into his lap. Their legs were resting against each other. The hair on the top of her head nuzzled his chin. His arms were bent around her shoulders, and his hands were held straight up and flat. He didn’t dare grab her with his bloody, raw appendages.

Inch by inch, he pushed himself like a frog. Bending his legs and sliding back on his behind as he dragged Anya’s dead weight with him.

The Tulpar shook and swayed. His eyes vibrated and struggled to focus on the door ahead of him. Even now in the back of his vision, he could see him, Curly, sitting in the Captain’s chair, desperately trying to save them, to steer them away from harm as his body burned away. Flesh melted and torn on the wheel. Eyes sizzling and flowing like ice. The smell of burned hair wafted into the man’s nose. Anya’s hair was fried at the edges. It was an indescribable, horrific smell. Jimmy wondered if Curly’s fat would run like lard on the stove. What happened to someone’s organs when they boiled?

Jimmy whimpered, and he slammed his eyes shut, banishing the image from his mind—one less ghost to haunt him.

So close, they were so close. It hurt, everything hurt, and he had no strength left besides the pure adrenaline running through his veins. Being just shy of the dorm frame wasn’t enough. They had to be entirely out of it, and as they crossed the line, he kept going. Even as the doors came to a close, he kept crawling, and he never let go of the woman’s body. Not even the door could provide them with the security he craved.

Jimmy crawled and crawled, bending and shaking. His legs were convulsing, begging and pleading for him to stop. But he wouldn’t.

The more the ship shook. The alarm wailed louder. They would never be safe. The ship wasn’t safe. He had to keep going. The pipes that aligned the walls burst, and valves were shot across the room like bullets. They were doomed to be crushed like an aluminum can.

Crunching, scraping. The sound of an impact across the exterior as holes were being ripped into the vessel.

The pair were sent flying backwards, and still the man didn’t let go even as they spun down the hall. Insulation foam was released from the pipes, flooding the interior. The sound of the alarm cut off abruptly, and the glass from the lighting imploded, blanketing them in a wash of crystal. Darkness, the power had been cut.

Jimmy held the woman close and braced himself for the end.

Notes:

Heyooo, first retcon of the fanfic is in this chapter!
Upon observing the game's footage for this one...I noticed that the cockpit has two doors, and one of them looks very much like a fire door to me. It makes it make sense to me why Jimmy wasn't blown sky high despite being so close to the impact zone. However, it also provided a convincing reason why Jimmy would save Anya in this AU. I always intended for him to be the one who dragged her away, but couldn't figure out the greatest explanation why he would until now.

I'm excited for the future of writing this fanfic! This is the last flashback chapter for now, which means more development of that curlya in the present time! Always nice, always good. I like writing about other characters and their interactions. But I mean... we all know why I'm writing this, haha!

Chapter 7: Nutmeg and Whipped Cream

Notes:

Uh, oh, look at me going around writing some actual fluff for once. This is a nice little breather for everyone after so much damage! <3

I've got to say I really like writing romance. I might trickle one of these in there every once in a while.

I'm excited to say, after this chapter, we are SO close to finally getting off the Tulpar haha!

 

The sky was a solemn gray, overcast with a threat of rain. Typical for that time of year. The air was crisp and cool, and a welcome sign that the long-smoldering summer had finally come to a close. If they were lucky, neither the rain nor the sun would break through the clouds, and the couple could enjoy the scenic route through the park, admiring the gold and red palette that blanketed the paths. It was early morning on a Saturday, and the usual hustle and bustle of the sleepy hollow had yet to be stirred from their beds. That was the way the couple liked it. Crowds in particular weren’t much to their liking, and it was worth the 6 am hike to the local coffee shop before the morning rush took off.

They were bundled up in light jackets and scarves to ward off the morning chill. The man looked towards his girlfriend as they walked on the cobblestone, and a slight smile crept across his face. Her scarf had been pulled up around her mouth, leaving a hint of her delicate nose exposed and flushed. She never took well to the cold and often complained about his preference to live up in the mountains. However, despite that, she agreed to the move, and from then on, it was his duty as a man to shelter and keep her warm. Without words, he threw his arm around her shoulder and pulled her in close before adjusting her scarf up around her nose. She turned to him with nothing but her big, beautiful, brown eyes peering up above the scarf. Her brows were furrowed and her eyes squinted in annoyance, but she accepted the gesture and snuggled in closer. She was a tall woman, almost as tall as he was, and her face nuzzled comfortably in the crook of his neck.

A sudden pinch on his behind caused him to leap a few paces ahead with a yelp in surprise. The wrap around her face softened the woman’s laughter, and once he finally settled down to his original pace, her hand rested gently on his hip as they continued their walk. Accept now, they both had a slight skip in their step as their eyes stole glimpses of each other.

Their morning walks were usually in silence. They considered themselves morning people only because their jobs demanded it. Small talk was a considerable chore that required too much brain power. Most days, they made their coffee at home, knowing exactly how the other liked it. But Saturdays were special. They agreed early on that their mornings, with exceptions of course, would mostly be free. While they always started their days together, a sluggish trudge out the door wasn’t romantic, and they never wanted to forget how much they enjoyed each other's time. It was small, but meaningful, and most of all, there was a particular security in being comfortable around the other in silence.

The coffee shop was quaint and sat on the corner of two streets. Out in front of it were three modest wooden tables and chairs for patrons who would rather enjoy their brew in the fresh air under the shade of the trees. It was a delightful, picturesque idea, but not in 68-degree (F) temperatures with an iced coffee in hand. As they entered the shop through the glass door, a small bell chimed to announce their arrival. An older woman stood behind the counter, pressing espresso for another early riser. The barista, despite her grind, glanced up at the couple as they appeared in the doorway, shaking the cold from their hair and faces. She threw them a slight smile and waved, and received smiles and head nods in return.

The interior of the shop was quaint and rustic; one might say it never fully recovered from the iconic wood paneling of the 1970s. Fauna hung from every corner and nook. Anywhere they chose to sit would be cast in a delightful, nostalgic sense of a grandmother’s house. The room was filled to the brim with trinkets and do-dads lovingly collected throughout the years. Organized chaos, no rag out of place. The walls and windows were lined with the soft glow of strings of little fairy lights, and smooth jazz played from a radio behind the counter. On the far end of the shop, past the counter, was a stone hearth bearing smouldering embers and ash. The fireplace was well-maintained, and the aroma of a wood-burning fire wafted through the air, blending harmoniously with the scent of coffee beans and sweet cream. It was a warm welcome compared to the chill of the early morning frost, and they might even be tempted to warm their stiff fingers by the fire. The only way the mood could have been accentuated harder is if small flurries of snow began to fall outside.

But first, coffee.

The blonde man trotted towards the wooden counter first, careful not to disturb the other patron who simply glanced at him with a polite, tired smile before staring down the barista again. It was apparent to the newcomer that he was desperate for his next caffeine hit. As his girlfriend followed along behind, he caught her eyeing the extravagant espresso machine behind the counter. It was polished clean to a simmering silver. Steam rose from its mechanisms as the grounds were pressed and drained over a small shot glass. Her eyes sparkled in anticipation.

“Latte again, Anya?” The man asked with a slight chuckle as he slid his denim jacket off his shoulders and around his arm, revealing a cozy sweater. Three layers were a bit excessive on an autumn morning. “Two shots of syrup or six today?”

“Oh, I don’t know, O-R-I-O-N. I wouldn’t want the nice lady behind the counter to judge me for having a milkshake for breakfast.” Anya pouted and shot Curly a scrunched-up look. She only used his first name when she meant to tease him. An extra push to get her way, as if he would deny her, her coffee-flavored ice cream at six in the morning. Anya had an iron constitution, and no amount of sugar and grease could take her out. Curly, on the other hand, hated to admit he was a bit more delicate.

“I think Mrs. Delilah would be more concerned for you if you didn’t get your usual.” Curly grinned and peered over at the aging woman behind the counter. “Ain’t that right?”

“It’s the truth!” Delilah cackled and set the hot Americano on the counter in front of the other man, who jumped out of his skin at the sound. He wanted nothing to do with this loud, boisterous conversation during the wee hours of the morning. Without a word or another glance, the patron snatched up the paper cup and quickly bustled out the door. The bell clamored and chimed as it hit the frame in his wake. Barely giving the man another thought, the trio returned to their conversation. Anya’s lips were pursed as she held her ground in dominance. She leaned into the counter, one hand on its cool surface.

“Forming alliances against me now? Are we? Careful. I know your deepest, darkest secrets.” Anya said in a calm, coy voice, a smile inched across her face as she slowly turned to face the woman behind the counter. “Delilah, I’m tired. My week was hard, and I need a little extra pep in my step if I’m going to survive my day off! One can only handle being the arbiter of so much bad news.” The words were spoken smoothly, in jest. A mask that the woman had spent years perfecting. Under it all was a dusting of pain.

“Six shots with a thick coating of whipped cream! Coming up!” Ms. Delilah tapped the counter a couple of times before she spun around and began to prep the espresso machine. “What flavor does a hard week call for?” She purred, her back turned to the couple. Anya took a moment to deliberate on all her choices. The list written out neatly on the blackboard in chalk was immense. They had frequented this shop for years, and she was determined to try every combination imaginable under the sun, knowing she had a lifetime to figure out her favorite. There weren’t many flavors she disliked in her coffee.

“Carrot cake.” She whispered, secretly, as if she were revealing the code of the universe. “With a sweet vanilla bean cold foam…real walnuts on top, if you have any to spare.”

“You got it! I’ll see what I can do. That’ll be quite the combo of syrups.” The woman chuckled as she got to work. Her setup was Santa’s workshop for the young woman. So many bells and whistles. Machines she couldn’t comprehend were gilded in platinum. Bottles of flavor syrups were neatly lined up on the back wall, and it was clear as day which ones were the most popular. The wall behind the counter was made of brick to complement the wooden interior—a delightful fantasy in comparison to the couple’s modern, stark white apartment.

A low whistle of awe broke her out of her trance. Anya didn’t even have to turn to look to know it was her boyfriend who was sharing his opinion on her decision. She rolled her eyes, and he could feel her intensity despite their distance.

“Sounds good.” He countered in a slow drawl, and she snorted in response. Curly sauntered towards his girlfriend until their bodies pressed up against each other. His arms slid comfortably around her waist and squeezed tightly. It was an innocent gesture, a sign of affection he had performed hundreds of times, and yet every time he took note of the curve of her back as it settled into his chest. Their similar heights had their advantages, as many parts of them were aligned adequately, as if they were carved from the same marble. Anya’s behind nestled gently between his pelvis. Anya wiggled naughtily all while the owner had her back turned to them. An invitation to a party later that evening, provided they showed some restraint. She turned her head to look at him, her hair brushing his nose. Their faces were so close that it took every shred of decency inside the man to contain himself. Her lips were full and reddened by the warmth of the room. Oh, how he longed to plant one on them. If he were a less mannered man, he would have. However, there was a thrill in the idea of being caught in the act of sweet passions.

Anya smiled sweetly before leaving him a peck on the lips and a quick bump with her backside. Curly stepped back with a sigh and a sheepish grin. His eyes failed to convince her he was innocent. She wasn’t buying it and stuck her tongue out to taunt him.

“Is it safe to turn around?” Delilah asked as she flipped around with a large drink in her hands. Her large skirts rustled and flowed as she went. The iced drink was lidless and barren of whipped cream. But this was the magical part. The woman set the latte on the counter and pulled a can of cream out from under it. In her other hand, she held a plastic dome lid. Like the professional she was, in one fluid movement, she snapped the lid in place and filled the dome to overcapacity with sweet, rich cream. The cup was overflowing with milk. You'd have to use a magnifying glass to observe any actual coffee in the container with that cold foam and whipped cream combo.

“Mmmmm.” It was the only sound the blonde man managed. He didn’t dare voice his opinion. He’d wager a guess to say it was barely a coffee-flavored milkshake at this point. Curly looked at Anya, and her eyes were fully alight. One sip of that coffee would send her into a euphoric sugar high that would take all day for her to come down from. Hopefully, the crash doesn’t dampen her desire to participate when the evening's fun is to commence. Anya snatched up the beverage and swiveled around, looking him dead in the eye as she took a massive swig through the straw in defiance. “Some say pure sugar flows through your bloodstream.” He said with a crooked smile. “How is it?”

“A true liquid cake!” She turned back to Dalilah. “You should run an entire set of cake-based coffees. They are sure to be popular!”

“With a certain crowd, maybe.” The woman chucked. “I’d lose my rustic appeal and all the husbands will grieve.”

“Oh, please! The Ladies Romance Book Club plus Curly already hang out here. It feels like home.” Anya scoffed.

“Very much so, because I keep my options open to the creativity of those who are patrons here. But for you, I’ll add my newest creation to the suggestion board. Perfect for those crisp fall days. Both in hot and cold!” The older woman exclaimed. Anya’s face scrunched in disgust.

“I’ll be ordering my coffee iced even in the dead of a snowstorm.” Anya grimaced through her teeth.

“Hey now! Some of us actually like their brew hot. It’s classic. The only true way to have a cup of joe is hot. The heat brings out the sweet aroma and activates the full flavor profile of each unique blend. To chill the brew dulls it, not that it matters when you completely mask the bean with…with SUGAR!” Curly dramatically held the back of his hand to his forehead and stretched his neck back, nose to the air with pretentious flair. It was the same dog and pony show they went through each week, as if the banter over their preferences was a part of their routine. “Please, Ma’am, may I have a Rococo Roasters Extra Fancy Pour Over?” He placed his hand over his chest and bowed his head slightly towards the woman, who snorted loudly at this request.

“Sir, do you know what the hell you just asked for? Or did you Google it?” Delilah chortled.

“No ma’am, it’s what I make in secret every morning. I’ve had to hide it from Anya so she wouldn’t decimate my expensive beans in whipped cream!” The man wiped an imaginary tear from his eye. “My heart almost stopped when I caught her running my grounds through…through a machine!”

“Oh, quit it!” Anya gave her boyfriend a hard slap on his firm rump, and Curly lurched forward. He should expect this kind of affection from her, and yet every time she manages to blindside him. Not that Curly minded. He put great effort into every piece of his figure, and he liked to believe she enjoyed him as much as he enjoyed her. “Everyone knows you were drinking Folgers canned sawdust before I came into your life. You were out in the woods spearing deer and sleeping under trees. Everyone knows you’re far from anything fancy.”

“Let’s not bring up the past. I’ve come so far. Please don’t make me go back to the sawdust.”
Curly placed his hands on the counter in defeat, his head hung low.

“We serve affordable coffee here, boy, no Extra Fancy Rococo. You’ll have to drink that at home. You’re going to have to settle for the poor people’s Kona.” Delilah did not contribute to their banter, for she was already heavily involved in Curly’s pour-over even before she asked him if he was okay with her selection. He was. It was one of her signature beans, and he frequently ordered it. Curly was simply in an extra spicy mood this morning and was a little jealous of Anya’s fancy signature lattes. It was true that he was a man, typically of few words and simple tastes. He didn't ask for much and accepted what he was given as long as it wasn’t vile. But there was no harm in splurging on something a little extra special once in a while. The spiel wasn’t completely fabricated. Curly could tell the difference in the flavors and thoroughly enjoyed trying different blends. He might not have been as enthusiastic about it as Anya and her cake bombs, but they certainly tickled his fancy. The man admitted to being a smidge simple. It was rather satisfying to watch the woman pour hot water over the grounds, allowing the coffee to filter through into his own personal cup. The brew was specially crafted just for him.

“If I try hard enough, I can pretend to relate to the common folk.” Curly grinned, feigning an air of affluence. The pair were most definitely not rich. Both he and Anya were currently struggling through college. Anya had recently started an internship at the local hospital as an LPN and spent most of her long hours in and out of the ER. Curly knew she had seen things he didn’t dare ask about unless she was in the mood to open up to him on her own.

She, in every way, was his idol. No matter how grim and dark the road ahead became, she continued onward. Struggling. That’s how much she loved and treasured people, and even now, the loss of a total stranger would move her to tears. The harder it was, the more it drove her to continue on as if the entire world was on her shoulders. If she didn’t care for them, then who would? Her heart was overflowing.

With great encouragement, Curly had also gone back to college with sweaty palms and chattering teeth. All the calculus that he had crammed into his skull had painfully faded away into the murky abyss of time. He never lost his passion for machines, but he had to admit it was a significant struggle, and he was forced to restart his education from a high school level before beginning his new career path. Oftentimes, it was frustrating to see Anya come home from a busy day of following her dreams while he slaved away over his multiplication tables. Guilt immediately followed after a flash of her prominent smile. Ever encouraging, Anya. It didn’t matter what he had finished. She congratulated him for doing it. In any other situation, it would feel patronizing, but every time she did it, it lifted his spirits. Like a cool summer gust, her encouragement blew away his doubts and fears. Curly could do it. It was going to happen, and it didn’t matter how long it took.

Delilah shook her head with a sigh. She knew of the couple’s struggles to stay afloat. Curly was self-aware of their finances and peacocked in jest.

After a few minutes, the barista removed the filter from atop the carafe and pitched the remains of the grounds in a bin below her counter. She returned with a paper cup, poured the fragrant brew into it, and capped it off. Curly drank his coffee black. It wasn’t a show but a sincere preference. An acquired taste he didn't dare dilute with cream. “There we go, the perfectly crafted brew for the king himself. That’ll be $43.50. Cash or card?” She asked and held out her hand, smirking.

“Cash. Anything for the brewing goddess herself.” Curly laughed and pulled out his worn leather wallet from his back pocket. The woman hadn’t even added their order to the register yet.

“Careful, stud. Don’t try to double your catch and end up going home without a fish.” The older woman smirked and eyed Anya, who was too preoccupied with her concoction to react as if he meant anything but to flatter the woman. If he were out to provoke another warning on the behind, he didn’t receive one.

“Would you dearies like anything else before I ring you out? You’re early enough that you'll have the first pick of any muffin or bagel, whatever your heart could desire. Maybe something salty to offset the sugar?” Delilah suggested. Curly glanced over to the display case packed full of soft, buttery baked goods and wondered if a few carbs could spoil their breakfast plans. At the top of the display case was a basket of soft and fluffy croissants, covered in a tantalizing amount of butter. His eyes darted towards Anya, whose lips were clamped tightly on her straw as she greedily sucked the liquid cake through it. She eyed the baked goods with wide and glistening eyes. Those eyes said all. The man didn’t even have to ask—a true test of understanding his girlfriend's tastes.

“Half a dozen of your biggest croissants , please. Two for here, the rest to go. I have plans for the lot of them. If you have any of those little packets of honey left under the bar, we would greatly appreciate it.” He ordered as a brush of something so soft and warm caressed his side. Anya had edged closer. She didn’t look his way as she pressed her body into his as she continued to focus relentlessly on her latte. The woman held it with both hands. Her grip appeared to be so firm that it seemed close to crushing it between her fingers. Curly’s order had pleased her, but she didn’t want to inflate his ego through spoken gratitude. He leaned in close and allowed his chin to rest on the side of her temple gently. The woman’s black hair rustled his nostrils. Even with his substantial height, he wasn’t able to reach the top of her head. Her perfectly teased hair smelled nice. Its scent was subtle, and he couldn’t place the smell, but he remembered hearing the sound of her spray bottle as she was getting ready earlier. The sound of her perfume was a sign of her immediate departure. Wherever she went, the woman made a habit of putting on perfume—the last detail of her ensemble. The inconsequential sound awakened something inside the man. Longing. Usually, it signaled the beginning of a long workday and hours alone to go about his business. He already missed her before she had departed.

Curly had his own habits, such as getting lost in thought as he meticulously mulled over every detail as if committing them to memory. If something were off, he would be the first to know it, as he had promised her a long time ago. To put her first above all else for all that she had sacrificed for others. When she needed space, he gave it to her. When she craved his attention, he provided, and she, in return, would do the same.

The blonde man’s eyes drifted back towards the case as the barista with clean tongs and a paper bag quickly and methodically pulled croissant after croissant from their basket and into the bag. Anya swayed back and forth to each crinkle of the bag as each buttery goodness hit the bottom.

“CrOISAnt.” Anya sang, adding emphasis to the word as she poorly imitated the accent.
“Oh, hoo, crOISAnt.” Curly repeated under his breath.

“I bet they will be perfect with a bit of egg and bacon sandwiched between them—hashbrowns on the side. We can’t skip those. Our potatoes are nearly ready to be planted. I checked them earlier. I can’t believe we’ve forgotten about them for so long. I don’t even remember when we bought them,” Anya murmured while watching Delilah as she lightly shook the bag to help its contents settle.

“Eehh, yeah, it's pretty easy to lose track of the days. Doesn’t matter how you prepare them, they are so time-consuming to make up in the mornings.” He responded, nibbling at tufts of her hair. The woman paused for a moment, lips moving slightly as she calculated the time in her head.

“Maybe…or it’s far more possible this is a sign we are eating out WAY too much. Confess your sins, what are you ordering in for lunch when I’m not home?” Anya prodded.

“My sins, you say? You stopped packing your lunch.”

“Cafeteria food is simply more convenient! What’s your excuse?”

“I’m lazy.”

“Fair enough.”

“I bet it’s costing us dearly.”

“What do you propose?

“Well, if I were a good boyfriend, I’d make and pack your lunch the night before. Maybe even make enough dinner that there are leftovers. We could then go cold turkey on frozen chicken tenders and Hot Pockets.”

“BABE, don’t admit out loud that we eat Hot Pockets!”

“Embarrassing, I know. It completely contradicts our high-class autumn aesthetic we have going on. A denim jacket and plaid dress shirt have a significant weight of sophistication to them.” Curly motioned toward the jacket under his arm.

“At least now she knows what we spend our checks on.” Anya sighed, pulling at her own vibrant green sweater.

At some point during their conversation, Delilah placed two croissants on brown napkins on small white plates and slid them over the counter towards the couple. Two packets of pure honey were placed neatly to the side of both of them. A smile was drawn on her face as she listened in on their silly conversation. Without interrupting, she had already entered their order into her POS and spun the monitor around to face them. The total read out $30.48. Damn. The price of fresh homemade croissants and real butter. They’ll have to savor them because it will be beans, rice, and eggs for the next week or so. Letting their potatoes go bad was suddenly a real tragedy. He could feel Anya fumble around for her purse before butting her in the side. He’d cover it to pay for her desires. He wasn’t often rewarded with the chance because she made significantly more at her hospital job than he did as a part-timer. It was another hang-up he was slowly working through. Curly pulled two twenties out of his pocket and handed them to the woman. After she rang him up, she handed him back nine and some change, to which he shoved most of it into her tip jar. It was the least he could do as an apology for her having to put up with their antics that he was sure she enjoyed.

“Do stay awhile, you two. You know you liven this place up in the best ways. I appreciate the energy this early in the morning.” The barista commented and began washing the equipment.

“I think we will, at the very least, it will keep us out of the cold for a while.” Anya winked at the woman.

“I’m open until 4. I’ll keep the fire burning until then.” The older woman cooed. Anya and Curly grabbed up one plate each, and before retrieving his pour-over, Curly tucked the bag of extras carefully under his arm. The smell of warm, flaky dough wafted in the air, momentarily allowing them to forget their anxieties.

“Thank you for always taking care of us, Delilah.” Anya smiled. Out of free hands, she had no choice but to knee Curly in the caboose to get the train going. The entire shop was empty, and they had their choice of the whole house. They chose a cozy nook near the entrance of the shop. The couple slid into the wooden booth and plopped down on a sagging plaid cushion. Their backs were facing the window, allowing them a full view of the interior. It didn’t take long for Anya to saw her croissant in half and lather it up with honey. Pressing eagerly on the ends of the packets so none of the rich golden elixir was forgotten. Curly generously nudged his honey her way, and with a quick smile and a nibble of her bottom lip, she tore into those as well. The egg wash and buttered glaze were enough for him. While Anya fidgeted with her halves, Curly took a bite from one of the ends and followed up the flaky bread with a quick sip of his black coffee. It was elegantly smooth as it rolled over his tongue.

Perfection.

He set his mug down on the deep red plaid table runner and rolled over the sights of the shop, from the burning embers to the crisp autumn wind that rattled the windows behind them. The clouds had grown darker, and the leaves on the trees shook like a chest of gold coins. Not a great sign. The sky was a feeble dam, and they didn’t have the foresight to check the weather. They’d be faced with the options of camping out in the shop or making a break through the curtain of water.

“You’re worried,” Anya said through crisp bites of her honey-soaked croissant.

“Hmm?” His attention was drawn back to his girlfriend, who was leaning over, elbows splayed out on the table.

“I put in a lot of overtime this week, and I get paid on Tuesday. It’s going to be a FAT one. I don’t want you to feel guilty for indulging in something nice once in a while.” Anya rose from her slumped position and looked him in the eyes. “It’s already done, so better to enjoy it.” Curly sputtered and sighed. That was only half of it, but his thoughts were conversations not worth repeating and matters he had to work out on his own. His lack of response provoked the woman to speak again. “I’m glad we quit. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don't regret that decision. Aaaand, I’m much happier that you’re here with me.” She pressed her thigh into his. So soft and warm, a gentle touch that cut his shivers in two. Curly hated to admit he thought of space often. The ease of monotony was hard to deny, but it wasn’t without its own clothesline of stress, hung up neatly in a row. He had grown so used to the assembly line he had become and the difficulties of others that threw wrenches in his cogs and gears. Tasteless food, insomnia, eyes weary from staring at the monochrome of green displayed out in front of him. His hopes and dreams were lost within the void of stars and rock. Yes, the change was difficult, but it was very exciting.

Along with the stress of daily living on Earth came something new: peace, laughter. What others might consider mundane was a breath of fresh air. The hum of an oscillating fan replaced the clangs and moans of the ship as it settled in space. The insomnia that had plagued him on the Tulpar dissipated with the setting of the sun, followed by its rays seeping through the window, calling him into the next day. The food was so good. If this croissant were the first bite he took back on solid ground, he would have been moved to tears. It was worth every penny to experience the taste of real butter again.

“It’s not that. I have a roof over my head, a comfortable home to finish my education, and the privilege of sharing your bed with you. I’d rather walk through soldering ash in my bare feet than ever experience the lifelessness of space again…it’s just that…” He shoved the end of his croissant in his mouth instead of his foot. It was an uncomfortable topic to discuss. Relying too heavily on Anya’s income was embarrassing. Most of his meager hourly rate went to paying for his part-time classes. They made that decision together after much thought and decided that it would be better financially to be in school part-time and avoid taking out any more student loans. Anya had her own loans to fret over. Pony Express only pushed her through the first year of medical school. The only saving grace is that she had acquired her bachelor's a long time ago. A smile of pride washed over her face every time she was allowed to brag about her status as a graduate student.

Anya looked at him knowingly and wiped her hands of crumbs before giving him an eager head scratch, which caught him off guard. Curly’s eyes darted towards the counter to see Delilah turn and tend to the fire pit. She noticed and was attempting to look unassuming and sly. Curse his pale skin! He could feel it grow hot and simmering. His lady friend knew his weaknesses and how much he enjoyed an evening on the couch. She had his head in her lap while she ran her long fingers through his curls as she watched TV. Often lulling him into a comfortable sleep. The act was a maternal one and was far more intimate than exchanging kisses.

“You saved me, this is the least I could do,” Anya whispered into his ear.

“You’re exaggerating! I was dragged kicking and screaming. It was so pathetic how much of a fight I put up, even though I hated everything about my life. From my position, you’re the one who got the short end of the stick. I should be thanking you!” Curly huffed. Not sure what to do with his hands, he picked up a stir stick from a dispenser on the table and started to swirl his coffee aggressively. He could feel her breath on the side of his face, causing him to sweat.

“You thank me every time your tongue savors and rolls across my lips.” Anya’s sultry voice echoed around his skull. “And I’m not referring to the ones on my face.” She giggled like a schoolgirl. Her head slid down and rested playfully on his neck. If his face weren’t bright red before, it was now. Anya’s giggles evolved into fits of laughter as she grabbed handfuls of his sweater in a loose embrace.

“A-anya! Sshhh! Ssshh! You’re too loud.” Curly winced and turned towards her, gently grabbing her shoulder with his free hand.

“What? Are you embarrassed by me?” Her laughter continued. “You didn’t have any problem giving me a little tap a minute ago!”

“An innocent gesture! A million ways it could be interpreted!”

“You should see your face right now! You look like a blonde tomato.” She teased him as her breath began to choke in desperation to breathe. His awkwardness stole the air right from her lungs. “Very cute.” She reached up for the curls of his bangs and fiddled with them. “Of all my toys, you’re my favorite.”

“We are going to kick out for indecency!”

“Oh, please, there isn’t anyone else here but us!” Her laughter settled as she continued to nuzzle him.

“The barkeep is watching.”

“Let her. I’m not ashamed.” Curly let out a grumble in response. He was suffering from the taste of his own medicine, and she reveled in it. Curly complained and acted as though he hated the attention, but in reality, he savored it. How long had it been since he had the honor of flaunting his affection for another? Perhaps never. The feeling was still in its infancy, and the emotion was overwhelming. He missed out on so much trudging through the backwaters of space, and he would be a fool to walk away. “I’m happy.” She cooed. “You make me happy, and I’ll keep reminding you as many times as I have to. You make me happy, Orion Carling.” Curly paused as a gentle trickle of new peace washed over him, and he rested his head on top of hers.

“I love you…Anya.” The very words took his breath away and flowed softly and low. Not a secret, but personal and passionate. Irrefutable as if he had never been sure of anything else in his life, and as far as he knew, that was true.

“I love you, too.” She responded as sweetly as the honey on her lips. “Stay with me, you are the anchor that keeps me grounded. Without you, I’d be lost out there in an ocean of stars.”

“Odd, I was just about to say you were my life raft when I was drowning in a sea of blood. But that doesn’t sound nearly as beautiful.” He smirked.

“It’s a potent image that’s for sure.” She sighed and peered up towards him with a certain longing. He had no other choice but to oblige. Curly brushed the tangled black hair from her cheek, and she closed her eyes in anticipation.

His lips delicately greeted hers. It was small, quick, and respectful towards onlookers, but heartfelt all the same. Anya smiled sweetly as he parted from her, her eyes still closed. Curly shifted and settled into the corner of the alcove. He pulled her close as she let out a large sigh. It was perfect. Everything. This moment, this place, with her nestled into his side. Despite all of their hardships, it was a peace he had never known in his life, and because of that, he was satisfied.

---

Curly’s eye jerked open.

Pain.

Pain.

PAIN.

Aching, sawing, searing pain.

It was gone, the dream had ended. Abruptly and suddenly. A soft hand placed on his raw shoulder shook slowly back and forth as mercifully as possible. The Captain couldn't see; his vision was blotted out by something that had been placed over his eye.

The captain let out a bellowing cry of agony. No matter how many times he was pulled from his dreams, there was no way to acclimate to the torture of having his skin melted from his flesh. He heard a yelp, and the hand on his shoulder pulled away, causing the cot to shake.

He hadn’t forgotten where he was, but he wished he had. Against all odds, Curly was still in the land of the living. Miserably strapped to a board, unable to move, and feeling as if he were constantly lying on a bed of shattered glass.

The coffee shop was a dream, nothing more, and a foolish one at that. He wasn’t back on Earth, free of the slavery of Pony Express. He was a slab of meat, strung up in the Tulpar’s bowels. The way his mind played tricks on him made him feel irrationally angry, as if some omnipotent god took pleasure in his pain and suffering. Teased him with joy and happiness. What followed the anger was shame. Anya and the crew were suffering alongside him, and Anya, in particular, was used as a prop in his boyish fantasies.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” She cried out in a hushed, gargled tone. “I know it hurts, and you were sleeping so peacefully, too. It’s just that I have to keep you on a schedule. We can’t wait until the pain is overwhelming, or we will have a harder time stabilizing you.” Oh, Anya, poor Anya. She was trying so hard. More than he deserved, but he was always in pain. Painkiller or no. They could only manage the intensity. At this level, at the very least, he knew who he was, where he was, and what had happened. The Captain was sane for now.

“Anng-ha.” Curly’s jaw twisted and tore; her name was all he could bear in response to her. How long had it been? He couldn’t recall. All he knew was that the torment was worse. His muscles were more numb. It was harder to move as he attempted to slosh around in his own bile and blood. As time passed, Anya moved him less and less. Her strength failed and waned alongside his own. No one else ever came in to help attend to him. Jimmy appeared from the depths once in a while but didn’t dare touch him since the day he awoke to find himself in hell.

“I’m here, I’m still here, I promise. I keep the painkillers close. I won’t leave you,” She said, just loud enough for him to hear. Just by the tone of her voice, she sounded tired, sick by how dry her words were.

“Ooowwh…ooongh?” How long? He asked her and hoped she would understand.

“Two weeks,” Anya sighed and added nothing else. Curly could tell she felt the weight of the situation. She wasn’t naive. The nurse could see the sorry state he was in and knew that, as they were now, things were going to get worse. Not better. Curly grumbled a little in response as he mulled over what to do. He waited patiently for her to ask him his opinion. How could they be saved out here in the ocean? However, it was demanding and exhausting to speak. Whenever he mulled over the simplest words he could think of. The easiest way to explain, he found himself drifting back to sleep. That's how he spent most of his days. Awake just long enough to take the medication, struggle through a bit of water and gray slop, and that was it. If it were possible to feel yourself dying, he knew in his heart that he was with every sliver of energy that left him.

“Angha…” Curly struggled to repeat it. “Eee..sseee. Heel…ah.” Eye…see. Help. The man hated being blinded, no matter how necessary it was for the sake of his eye. The fear that anyone could do anything in his presence, and he would never know, loomed over him. He wanted to see while he was awake, no matter how withered his eye had gotten. Anya sighed again, and he felt a tinge of guilt as if the small gesture inconvenienced her. What was he thinking? Of course it did, everything she had to do for him was an inconvenience. It was selfish of him to continue to draw breath if not for his desire to help her one last time. “S–sar-ee.” Sorry… He quickly added, so she knew. He knew she knew! He said it all the time when she did anything for him! So annoying! Curly was being annoying. He could feel it in his rotting bones! The rattle of the pill bottle signaled her approach, and he felt the weight of it as she set it down on the bed. Slowly but surely, the patch was peeled from his eye, and like always, she delicately shielded it with her hand as it slowly adjusted to the light. “Aank…yoou.” Thank you. He gasped in pain.

“You’re welcome.” Now that he could see her face, he could make out her smile. She looked terrible despite her best efforts to look cheerful. The woman’s hair was a mess, the grime was thick on her face, and her coveralls looked larger than they should have been on her. Her eyes were sunken, but in the face of hopelessness, there was a dull shine in her eyes. Just by looking at her, he could tell she had a fire left inside of her. “Please, don’t tell me you are sorry. It hurts me to hear you say that, looking like this. I’m just relieved you’re still here. I should apologize for not being able to do more.”

Curly braced himself for the routine. It was unpleasant no matter what she tried. Anya no longer had it in her to lift him the way she had the first time he woke up in this state. Like usual, she crammed her arm under his back. Her hand felt like steel wool across his tender flesh, and he winced in pain, unable to cover up his cries. Anya, stone-faced and powerful, lifted him slowly to a 45-degree angle. He did his best to hold himself there while his muscles spasmed and flared. There was no way for him to balance himself without hands. What was left of his abs screamed in horror as his core struggled to hold him. Anya let out a small groan under her breath as she popped off the lid of the medicine bottle with her teeth and fingered its insides for a single pill.

Curly complied and opened his mouth just wide enough for her to drop the pill in. The back of his throat was so dry, and still he felt the small disc sitting there as it dissolved into a bitter mush. The familiar pouch of water was held in front of his gaping mouth, and as per the routine, he gingerly sipped at its contents. Careful not to overindulge and upset his insides, no matter how much his throat begged for more.

“You need to try to drink more. I know what Jimmy said is still bothering you, but this isn’t the time to abstain. You’ll kill yourself this way…” Anya sighed and paused. Concern flashed across the lines in her forehead. “Unless…you don’t…want it anymore?...” Her voice quivered. “Please tell me you want it at least. That you need it.” His desire to appear altruistic seemed to have caused her great pain. He wanted it more than anything, but he also wanted her to take care of herself too. “Will you drink it…for me?” She asked in a hoarse whisper.

“Aht, a-out…you?” What about you? He choked out. “Ake, are ah you…” Take care of you.

“I’m taking care of myself just fine, thank you very much. I’ve had my share. This one is for you. I’ve made sure of it. There wouldn’t be much point to saving you if I die in the process. Who will wipe your ass?” She huffed. Curly stared at her in disbelief as if he could do anything but stare at her without an eyelid. He could feel her arm start to give under his weight, but she refused to lose this argument, and he relented, letting her slip the straw back between his teeth. “Just drink it slowly. Nothing bad will happen as long as you pace yourself.” Curly sucked on the straw slowly. Grateful to drop the act and allow the water to flood his veins. The smile returned to the young woman's face. He loved that smile more than the water he just drank. The Captain, even in his sorry state, would do anything to see that beautiful expression.

Once he finished the packet to her satisfaction, she carefully lowered him back down on the sopping cot. They had quickly run out of the means to clean the bed as often as she would like, but he knew better than to complain. Anya dropped herself back into a chair she had placed in front of the cot and let out a sigh of relief.

“Give me a breather. Then I’ll get you something to eat. Sorry, but you had an accident, and I cleaned you up while you were out. I like to save you from that humiliation.” She groaned and rubbed her aching arms. Ironically, if she really wanted to save him from it, she should have left out that last part entirely. Curly tilted his head towards the sunset screen to recover from the sudden rise in temperature. “Actually…” Anya started. “You were sleeping so peacefully a bit ago. Usually, you squirm and cry in your sleep. It must have been a good dream.”

“...yeus…ieh as.” Yes, it was. He worked it over in his mind. The strands of those memories were loose and faded as he struggled to hold onto them. As if he would ever be so lucky to take a girl like Anya home with him. He didn’t deserve it after how he failed to save her from the one thing she begged of him. Even if she were able to find it in her heart to forgive him, he could never forgive himself. He prayed often to a God he barely believed in to save her. Let them drift into the one other ship in the universe and take her home. Home to the people who loved and cherished her.

“Mmm.” She chuckled a little. “Could you tell me a little about it? I haven’t had much but nightmares anymore. If I can fall asleep at all.” Her question alarmed him as if he could even admit to his little teenage daydreams. His eye flared as he turned back towards her, mouth wide open in a fluster, wondering how obvious he was and if he was even capable of emoting anything but horror.

“Coughee.” Coffee. The man choked out.

“Coffee?” Anya leaned forward onto the cot and rested her chin in her hands, listening to his story intently. Lucky for him, she shouldn’t be expecting too many details.

“Wuhee, gost….coughee.” We got coffee.

“Together you say?”

“Yeush.” Yes.

“Well, do go on. I’m waiting in anticipation here!” Her smile crossed her entire face, and he swore he saw a slight twinkle. Was it possible, even now, she intended to tease him?

“Uuu got…wite crea ahnduh…could oam…horrile.” You got whipped cream AND cold foam, horrible!

“That sounds about right, but I bet you got something so boring just to look like a tough guy!” She looked like she sucked on a lemon.

“N-nuhoo!” No! Curly choked out, but she was on to him. “Eet aahs eal coughfee, nnoh garage.” It was real coffee, no garbage!

“Of course, you would say something pretentious like that. I hoped I kicked you in the butt for that.” Anya scoffed, but she was close, not that he would ever admit the other details. Like how the two of them were a couple, and she couldn’t keep her hands off him. How stupid that sounds as he played the scene back to himself in his head. Leave it to a Captain to think so highly of himself. Never in his life had he ever achieved such a perfectly sculpted figure, and even still, it was worth nothing now, wasting away on this table. If, by some miracle, he were to survive, what would he look like then? It’s not like a doctor could give him his face and hands back. The thought of life without hands was miserable and smothered his spirit. Curly wanted her to run as far away from him as possible. Find someone to match her beauty and grace. Maybe this was some karmic justice. His outsides matched his insides—a soft gelatinous blob. “You’re quiet, why are you quiet? Dying? Or are you just spiraling inside your head??” She interrupted his mope fest with a feverish grit.

“Sawee…” Sorry. He mumbled. “Eets ard tuh alk.” It’s hard to talk. She looked alarmed and deflated herself.

“No, no, stop apologizing, I can’t take you apologizing to me. I’m making it harder on you by trying to talk to you like this. I just…I don’t know. I just want to. Talking to the others isn’t the same. I feel like I have to keep up appearances, especially in front of Daisuke and Jimmy. I can’t let either of them think I’m crumbling. Y-you know?” Her voice choked, and her eyes glistened with tears that she pushed away with the back of her blood-covered palm. “It calms me. Even if it’s a lie. If you keep talking to me, the easier it is for me to tell myself you’re going to be okay.”

Crap, crap, crap. His excuse was a pitfall. He didn't intend to upset her so much, trying to dodge her embarrassing questions. What if he came right out and said it? She might find him disgusting from now on for hypothetically making advances on her without her consent, but at least it would stop her from crying.

“Eeee, kit. Oved een twohgethuh. Euuu keectet uh utt eecuss euu tease meh. Anduh…ayee…ee eeer oooree aan riendssuh.” We quit. Moved in together. You kicked my butt because you tease me. And…Maybe we were more than friends. That was the hardest sentence he’s ever said in his life. There wasn’t even a meager chance she could make that out.

She stared at him for a while. Almost panic in her eyes. Did she understand? Was she horrified by his disgusting, deplorable dream? Or it was too late. He couldn’t undo the hurt he had caused. Her eyes settled, then drifted to the ceiling, and then back and forth as if she were mulling over what he just said.

She had no clue what he said, and as terrible as that was, it wasn’t as bad as losing her to his selfish secrets.

Anya blew a puff of air and slid back into her seat. A crooked smile twisted her face.

“I should have known better. It was wrong of me to push you to talk to me when you should be saving as much energy as possible.” She sighed and ran her hand through her bangs. They were slick with grease and dirt and took a while to pry themselves free of her scalp.

“Nuhoo.” No! That’s not what he wanted at all. Curly loved being talked to. It was excruciatingly frustrating to be talked at rather than to. Even as he got worse, he had to keep trying. If he didn’t, he would lose his ability to speak altogether, and if that were to happen, he would be completely worthless to everyone around him. Anya looked at him in silence, waiting to see if he would speak again, lost for words and unsure of where to take the conversation, or if at all. “Ractice, gahta keet trieeingg.” Practice, got to keep trying. Speaking was exhausting, but he couldn’t give up. It was the only connection he had to another person. “Heltss eee eeel humahnn. Oonlee waay, I caann helts yoough.” Helps me feel human. Only way I can help you.

“You are human. No one stops being human.” Anya placed her hand on his shoulder and fought the urge to rub it. “Just keep practicing, and I’ll do my best to help you. It makes me happy that you're still trying.” Her face softened.

“Arr ee riendsssuh, Aahnya?” Are we friends, Anya? Curly asked a bit sheepishly.

“Of course we are.” The nurse said without hesitation.

“Wuheen ee getuh aaak. Illll trueeat yuh twoh ah careuut cakuh lahhteh.” When we get back. I’ll treat you to a carrot cake latte. Without lips and skin to grin, he settled for the alternative. Grinding his teeth. He already had a face not even a mother could love, so what was a dribble of drool down what remained of his cheek? Anya was on it as quickly as it started, dabbing his face with the sleeve of her coveralls. It must have been the cleanest material available.

“Carrot cake would be amazing right now. It must be Fall somewhere back on Earth right now. That’s where we should stop first. Somewhere, where the leaves are turning gold and pumpkin spice is in everything. Cozy sweaters and fires. What I would give to be twelve again, telling ghost stories around a bonfire, looking up at the stars.” Anya sighed whimsically.

“Illluh aake eet hatten or yoouh.” I’ll make it happen for you. “Eutiul dreann” Beautiful dream.

“Is that a promise?” She asked, her voice seemed to come from far away. He didn’t know how to respond. Curly’s made a ton of promises to a lot of people. Most of them had fallen through, and that was when he was a capable man. Here he was now making more promises when he was nothing but a Halloween decoration, taking up space in a small room. But it was time, he could feel it in his brittle bones. They couldn’t wait any longer for him to get better because he wasn’t. “I need to know…” She started. “I’ve been putting it off for a while, because I was afraid of what you might say. But I’m not an idiot! I know Jimmy doesn’t know what he’s doing, and I can’t go on pretending everything is just going to work out. We’re dead, aren’t we? Or is there some miracle waiting for us? Do you really think we will survive this?”
He looked towards her with his one remaining eye. From his position in the medical bay, he could barely make out the hall and beyond. From this vantage point, it was impossible to tell the damage inflicted on the rest of the ship's interior. There was one way, but it was a long shot. The hallways and beyond were filled to the brim with insulation foam. One wrong move could breach the entire ship, pulling them all into the vacuum of space. However, it would be quick. A quick, painless death in comparison to the long, drawn-out, painful one of slowly wasting away or suffocating...or... a plethora of horrific scenes flashed before his eyes.
Curly decided he had to take that risk—the only chance they had to survive. It would be his one last job as Captain—to lead his crew on one more mission, to a new life or death. Pure, sweet Anya deserved that hope.
The Captain opened his mouth and, through the pain, pleaded that Anya would understand his answer. Almost immediately, her shoulders relaxed, and tears pooled in the corners of her eyes.

“Air essuh ouuhn whuaayy.”

There is one way.

 

Notes:

Oh SNAP, there's my summary finally at the end of this chapter. Slightly changed. I'll change the summary in the future once they are off the Tulpar. It felt weird making it anything else until people can ACTUALLY read the meat of the story. I don't like getting anyone's hopes up.

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Chapter 8: Gray Slop

Notes:

Bummer, no chapter cover this time. Honestly, there won't be for a while. I am currently focused on another art project for a convention I'm running, and afterwards, I'll be on track to make the covers! I love making them because it keeps me drawing, but I don't want to keep everyone from receiving updates just because I don't have time to draw.

This chapter is HUGE, I'm sorry. I considered dividing it into multiple chapters, but ultimately decided against it. I don't want to withhold content that's already finished, haha. There are a couple of line breaks in this one, so you all can take a pit stop when it becomes too much, haha!

Another note is that, wow, I am constantly updating previous chapters. I'm not fixing continuity errors or anything. That is, every time Grammarly updates, it identifies more errors than it did previously. I am my own beta reader. I edit huge swaths of text as I go through it. Adding and deleting. Sooo sometimes when I add text, I don't recognize the errors. Apologies. Simply put, new readers will experience a different version than those who started with me.

CW: Potty Humor (I'm so sorry)

Disclaimer: I am not a medical expert, I'm googling terms and reading definitions but I just might be wrong about things. Certain situations have been drawn from my real-life experiences. For those, I'm confident.

The woman woke with a start as the nausea erupted up through her throat like boiling lava. She quickly spun to the side of her mattress and snatched up a waste bin coated with the stench of vomit and rot. The remaining contents of her empty stomach were quickly ejected into it. Morning sickness had become a recent addition to her daily routine, or what her body assumed to be morning. It was impossible to tell because all of the Ambiance Screens were malfunctioning and permanently displayed a constant sunset. If not for her alarm that tore at her like a twisting screw in her skull six times a cycle, she would have gone mad. Anya felt trapped in a limbo not of her making, where even her pain couldn’t remind her she was alive. The isolation and agony of every passing day might as well have been Hell itself.

She dropped the pail full of her insides down with a large clang before rolling back over and staring at the ceiling of foam and broken light fixtures. This mattress was the only one to survive, as everyone else's was buried in insulation foam and cut off from them in the sleeping quarters. Her’s, on the other hand, had been carefully dragged to the Medical Bay just moments before the accident. The Captain, in earnest, had successfully separated her from the rest of the crew, creating her own special prison of blood and wailing.

The lock to the room remained intact, and every night she barred herself inside with her patient. The rest of the crew hadn't questioned her decision to bunk with the Captain, as it would allow her to be close at hand when she needed him. It was, for all intents and purposes, the truth. As nauseating as it was to be surrounded by the permanent smell of iron and indescribable odors emanating from her Captain’s failing body, she preferred it. Daisuke, at one point, even praised her ability to sleep in the same room as if Curly in his mangled form could leap from the bed and assault her. The comment infuriated her, but she kept that rage to herself as scolding him for an innocent comment would solve nothing. It said more about her than about the boy, how numb she had become to Curly’s grotesque appearance. Skinless and bloody, the sight for any sane person would cause them to recoil and run. It was an instinctual reaction to reject and avoid signs of danger and death.

In a cruel, twisted fucked up kind of way, they had gotten their wish. The two of them were roommates. But instead of bunking in a cozy Midwestern town, they were trapped in a mental asylum, lost in the vacuum of space.

As if things couldn’t get any worse, her Morning Sickness was a telltale sign of her pregnancy. There were a good number of things she could pass vomiting on, such as being in a room with a rotting man, but the truth held her in an iron grip.

Her coveralls were pulled down to her waist, exposing her striped turtleneck. The central air system barely functioned, creating a heavy atmosphere inside the ship, and sometimes she woke up in a pool of her own sweat. The nurse, on her back, glanced down at her stomach, and to her dismay and relief, it appeared flat, almost concave. It was far too soon for her to show any visible sign of her pregnancy, but starving herself as a potential means of getting rid of the thing wasn’t ideal.

Anya shook her head in frustration. She wasn’t trying to starve herself intentionally. The stranded crew was rationing…it’s just that she was rationing a little more than the others. It was necessary for their survival, and they had no idea how long they would be stranded in space. If anything, she hoped and dreamed of the day she could sink her teeth into a sweet and greasy burger again with a chocolate milkshake on the side. Her stomach grumbled in anticipation.

Curly whimpered.

In response, she lifted her phone to her face and squinted. It was worth nothing more than an expensive clock and timer. The clock was blurred and difficult to read. A secondary contact case rested above her head on the nurse’s desk. The pair she managed to scrounge up and save marinated in weeks-old solution, and her glasses sat next to them, broken in two with the lenses shattered. She wasn’t legally blind, but her blurry vision gave her constant headaches on top of everything else that had gone wrong. Still, she didn’t dare risk introducing a petri dish of bacteria to her eyeballs.

It wasn’t time yet. The counter still had another hour and a half on it. Curly was slowly growing a tolerance to the opioids. Pony Express had stocked a generous year's supply of the shit as long as they were willing to pay out for them. They weren’t worried about their crew becoming addicted. But fuck that, at this rate, Curly’s kidneys would collapse from the dosage in the span of a few months, let alone an entire year. It’s only been five weeks since the crash. It felt like an eternity. Shouldn't it have been enough time for something to have changed by now?

Curly let out another groan, and Anya could make out the sound of him beginning to squirm on the cot. He gasped. A familiar emotion she recognized as fear. She blinded him to protect his eye, but he always woke up in a panic. He never remembered where he was or what was happening. It crippled her heart to hear him afraid and in so much pain.

“I’m coming! I’m coming!” She called out as she struggled to pick herself up off the foam-encrusted mattress. Every joint in her body popped and ached as if they had atrophied—an eighty-year-old woman with crippling arthritis. “You’re okay, it’s okay.” She added in a soft voice that she did not feel herself. There was no such thing as a full night's sleep for the woman, and the lack of food left her winded. The man on the cot murmured a confirmation that he heard her and attempted to dampen the sound of his torment.

It took the corner of the desk to pull her up from the floor. Just for the edge of the table to catch her sleeves, causing her to stumble and trip into the chair she had set in front of Curly’s cot. Anya fell to the tile with a thud and a groan. Curly gasped in shock, and his squirming intensified.

“Ahhnyaah?” He gurgled from atop the cot. The skinned man was in no position to aid her or even capable of turning to look for her on the floor. She needed water, something, anything to fight her headache.

“I’m fine, a little bumped, but I’m fine. My sleeves got caught on the table.” She assured him, however, getting up was easier said than done. Her long hands reached out for the cot’s mattress, and with fistfuls of fabric secured in her hands, she dragged herself to her feet. What greeted her at the top of the mountain was a mass of warm flesh and rot. Curly seemed alarmed by her sudden appearance and attempted to shift away, but didn’t get far. The slush that was his nightgown brushed against her nose. Anya wanted to throw up. The muck and grime caked on her face and clothes were all from him. Inescapably, she slowly became desensitized to the gore, but her pregnancy was less forgiving than her mind. The smell she had grown accustomed to drove her empty stomach mad, and yet she still found it within herself to slowly pull the patch from his eye, knowing it was his preference to see. She grazed his chest with her body as she reached. Underneath her, she could feel his muscles tense.

“How bad is your pain?” The nurse asked, shuffling to her feet as she felt around for the painkillers. The last time she used them, she had mindlessly stuck them in the pocket of her coveralls, and luckily, they were still there despite her frequent trips to the ground. “No lying. We don’t like lying in Nurse Anya’s office.” Curly paused and mumbled to himself. She knew he had a habit of downplaying his pain.

“...mmm….ive” Curly grumbled in frustration. The lack of lips and cheeks made it almost impossible for him to articulate his words. But he was trying, and that’s all that mattered.

“Five…that’s pretty bad timing-wise. I don’t want to start doubling it if I don’t have to. Your stomach is already a wreck.” Anya stated, and Curly sadly sighed.

“Saawreey.” He groaned.

“I’ve already told you how I feel about your apologizing to me.” Anya shook her head, and Curly went silent, most likely with another apology on his tongue. “I’m going to wait a little longer and then start cutting halves to up the dosage a little at a time. How does that sound?” Curly bobbed his head in consent. “Good, well, it’s about breakfast time anyway if I had to guess. I don’t want to give you another pill without food.” The man on the cot shifted his head towards the screen and let out a strained whine. “What? What's wrong?” She asked.

“Nnuhaht hungreh.” Curly strained to say with an edge of disappointment mixed with his saliva.

“That’s impossible!” Anya exclaimed louder than she intended. “I said no lying! A couple of bowls of mush isn’t enough for a grown ass man. You’re not being a baby about the taste, are you??” Curly winced at her tone of voice, and she pushed herself to relax by setting back her shoulders. Every time he refused food or water, she spiraled into a panic. If he wasn’t hungry or thirsty, it could only mean one thing. The Captain was dying. He couldn’t be dying. She wouldn’t allow it. Curly promised her he would live. His deteriorating state evaded her because the nurse refused to believe it. He had come this far, and she would will him to live.

Curly crossed his mangled arms over his middle and rested them tenderly on his stomach. “Urtsss.” He groaned.

Anya paused with consideration. “Can I feel it?” She asked, and Curly looked as alarmed as he could, clutching his stomach tighter. “Don’t look at me like that.” She blurted out. “It’s just us here, you don’t have to be embarrassed. I have to make sure it’s nothing…unusual.” Curly stiffened, but his arms loosened, and he looked away from the woman again.

“Okaaee…” He surrendered. In his state, there was nothing they could leave up to chance. If he had any fluid built up inside his body, he was a dead man. The thought alone made her sweat and enticed her to run away entirely. However, avoiding bad news was worse than facing it.

The nurse briskly slid his arms away from his torso and gently laid her palms on his abdomen. He was soft and moist. Blood seeped into the soaked hospital gown underneath the pressure of her palms. Very delicately, she shifted from one side to the other, giving his stomach small pinches with her thumbs. Curly winced but tolerated the pain, but his breathing locked up as she worked, causing his muscles to stiffen.

“Try breathing slowly, you’re too tense. You have to relax a little.” She instructed him, and through whines of protest, he started to breathe normally again. To the nurse’s great relief, she didn't feel any water pooling inside his abdomen, but he was definitely bloated. Anya sighed as she retracted her hands from his body. Curly’s sputters of relief were quickly interrupted by the woman lowering her head on his chest. She closed her eyes and pulled her hair back, exposing her ear so she could hear the rhythmic beating of his heart. It was speeding out of control as if he had run a marathon. Anya opened her eyes and peered up at the man’s chin. His jaw appeared locked, and he was wheezing through his nose. Unusual.

“Are you nervous?” She asked, and swore she heard his heart skip a beat, feeling a shiver run through his body. The Captain’s heart was fine. If anything, it was stronger than ever. Anya giggled as she pulled herself away from the man who remained petrified on the bed. “Well…” She said calmly as she leaned up against her chair. “Luckily for us, you don’t have congestive heart failure. You have the heart of a champion, and it’s not fluid in your gut. You're too solid for that, so it looks like you’re just a bit bloated.” Anya paused, and Curly’s rocky exterior crumbled. He was stopped up for sure, most likely caused by the constant use of opioids. How could she have failed to notice? She was the one who tended to his more intimate needs. Under normal circumstances, it wasn’t anything to worry about, but it could evolve into something much worse. He was severely dehydrated as well, which would contribute to his issues. But what could she even begin to do about that?? Her sacrifice hadn’t helped. Curly had no skin! The hydration barrier! It was an actual miracle that he was still alive without it.

Anya began to work herself up as she tore through any possible solution for this, and none of them seemed adequate. They had the medication to soften him up, but how well would it work without sufficient fluid? It was her only option. He had no issues with urinating, so she could grasp at straws and place most of the blame on the opioids.

Curly squirmed awkwardly on the bed, waiting for her to continue. It was an uncomfortable subject to broach in general, but she felt even worse about giving him anything without his agreement, even if it was for his survival. Anya had no choice but to bite the bullet.

“Hate to break it to you, but you are constipated.” The nurse said casually, without looking him in the eye, to try to soften the blow. She gripped the back of her chair tightly out of frustration. “I can’t believe I didn’t keep track of it. I should’ve been writing down your bowel movements because clearly it’s so easy to lose track of time in this limbo.” Curly wailed and tore his muscles to lift his arms to cross his face. “It’s the painkillers that are stopping you up.” He continued to grumble after every sentence. “I don’t blame you for not noticing you tend to relieve yourself while you’re out.” The grumbles and complaints died, replaced by silence. “I can't exactly keep the bedpan under you all the time, especially since I am in a constant battle to roll you over.

Several moments of sensory deprivation followed.

“So…if I stuck the pan under you now, do you think you can work anything out?” Anya slipped in, and Curly followed with a sigh. “Is that a yes?” He remained silent as he returned his arms to the cot and stared long and hard at the screen. “I need you to take this seriously!” Her voice cracked. “I’m not doing this to humiliate you. There is nothing to be ashamed of. It happens to the best of us. But I refuse to take anything lightly when everything can lead to a serious problem in your condition. I’ll say it as many times as I have to, you’re still human with human needs. I am BEGGING you to try for me.” Just speaking was becoming exasperating, and she brought a knee up onto the chair to steady herself. Anya was half tempted to wave him off, but her arm was sluggish and difficult to manage.

She couldn’t go another day without food, but Curly’s laundry list of medical issues was piling up.

“Sawhree. Doent, ink, I kuhan.” He sputtered sheepishly.

“Would it be easier without an audience?” She sighed, and he mumbled in confirmation, twisting his legs together.

“I ink ah aveff tooo eee.” Curly whispered and shrugged as well as he could.

“Oh well, well good!” The nurse said with a little too much enthusiasm. “I’ll stick the pan under you and fetch us both something to eat and drink. I’ll make it quick. I don’t want your pain to get too much worse. But I’m passing out to be honest.” Curly paused for a moment. His squirming became more pronounced, but he was tolerating the pain enough that he wasn’t crying.

“Annyaah…” He started. “Ake carreaah aaah youurssellk.” Curly looked towards her again, and she could see the sincerity in his unblinking eye.

“I am, I am.” She said, but sounded unconvincing as she held her head, nursing her raging headache. “Baby…problems.” The Captain jerked, and he turned away from her with a tinge of guilt.

“Sawwhhreeh…”

“Stop stop stop. You don’t have to be. I already know you’re sorry. It doesn’t help. Just don’t get any weird ideas. I’m not punishing you. I’m trying to help you even when it sucks.” Anya sighed, her eyes glued shut. “Like I said before, the only way for you to make this up to me is to live. Which means you have to shit into this pan for me.”

The nurse’s leg fell heavily to the floor as she sluggishly shuffled to the counter closest to the door, where her radio played soft, gentle music. In the cabinet above it, the bedpan was stored. She convinced herself it was better off being as far away from the floor as possible, as if this shelf were more sanitary than any other. For all the good it did anyway, her hands were covered in blood. They were in desperate need of more antiseptics. Soap was worthless without water, and they couldn’t afford to waste it. She ran out of hard wipes a week ago, and all she had left was a small bottle of hand sanitizer. Walls of foam currently blocked off the route to their storage room—a year's worth of supplies just out of reach. It wasn’t as if she had any other choice. Anya wiped the blood off her hands on a soiled cloth and applied a dribble of her sanitizer. It’ll have to be enough.

With the steel pot in hand, the nurse made her way back to her patient, who was lying anxiously on the bed. Curly was still turned towards the screen. Not wanting to compound her Captain’s humiliation any further, she swiftly slid the pan between his legs. He lurched upwards to make room for it, never once looking at her. After a few subtle adjustments, she backed away.

“I’m sorry.” The nurse said softly. It was an act of kindness, a necessary evil. Curly sighed softly, and his legs shifted a bit as he adjusted to the foreign object. “Alright, I’m off. Wish me luck.” Anya stepped away from the bed and towards the door of her prison. The latch was still down in the locked position, and her hand hovered over it for a moment. Every time she stepped into the outside world, it was a feat of courage. Difficult, and in some ways, she had turned her confinement into a haven, like a princess locked in a dark tower held captive by a mighty dragon below. Hell stood behind and before her. With one last exhale for courage, she lightly placed her hand on the red latch and unlocked the door. The gears began to roll and crunch, and the door lugged open. As she was about to step through the threshold, she heard a familiar gurgle from behind her.

“Aanghah.” Curly choked out. The woman stopped in her tracks but didn’t turn his way.

“Y-yes?” Anya asked.

“D-dowhont…ttsteell…Guheeeny.” His voice shrouded a mask of pain. There wasn’t much time left until the spasms would fully engulf him.

“I won’t, I already said, I wouldn’t. I’ve been toiling over how to bring it up without crediting you.” Anya’s voice shuddered at the thought of discussing Curly’s plan with the others. “But I have to, I can only get so far without at least one of the others. I personally wouldn’t want to rip that axe out of Swansea’s hands, would you?” The nurse turned to the captain with a glimpse of a rigid smile on her face. Curly sighed, and he shook his head for her in understanding. “We’re just stalling now! Release me so I can stir up your morning slop aaaand you do your best. If not, I’m going to have to mix in a little extra something today.” Anya winked, knowing he couldn’t see her, hoping he understood her tease. Curly rapped the mattress with his forearms and groaned. Success. She managed a genuine smile as she drifted out into the hall.

Anya didn’t get very far before pausing at the intersection. To her left was a hall that had been completely flooded with foam. She knew right from the start that there was a first aid box with bandages and aspirin, in case of need. It was so close but so far from her grasp, but even then, that wasn’t her target. This hall led straight to a storage room full of supplies, if it remained intact. But that wasn’t all. Unbeknownst to her, this entire time, just below the floor was a grate that dropped down to the ship's breaker box and back up generator—hidden, a secret from most of the crew, and their one hope. If she were able to reach it, there was a possibility she could reset the entire system and get the ship’s signal to sing out again. Of course, if all the computers were still in functioning order, yada yada, there were too many variables to worry about now. Just getting to the blasted thing would be a glacier-sized challenge. It didn’t matter if the path was clear and the equipment wasn’t damaged. If there were a crack in one of these walls and they breached it, hacking through, they would all be dead. But did it matter? Really, at this point, if they were sucked out into the vacuum of space? At least they’d go out knowing they gave it a fair shot. The nurse doubted her logic and how well she could convince the others of their plan.

She mulled over the words that Curly had spoken last night in broken, garbled English. Captain Scanner. Axe. Breaker box. Flip it on and off. Check the computers. Send out an SOS. Swansea would know how.

Swansea…oh Swansea, the ever-reliable belligerent mechanic of the Tulpar. Intelligent and stubborn, and not her best friend. It wasn’t that they didn’t like each other, per se, but it felt like he, too, in all his wise years of experience, berated her like Jimmy does. She didn’t have much faith in her ability to convince the old sailor to cooperate with her reckless plan, but he was essential. Without his axe, there was no way for her to tear through the blockade.

But that was currently neither here nor there. The starving, sickly woman needed to put off those unpleasantries until she had something to eat and a sip to drink, or else she wouldn't have the strength to lift the axe, let alone fight off a horde of grown men. Curly was her priority, of course, but she couldn’t help him if she were unable to help herself. Make it quick. He promised he could hold out for a while longer, but the picture of him lying there haunted her while she had the gall to stand around, gawking.

It was as if a mountain had been placed on her weary shoulders, and with every passing minute, there were pebbles placed on top of it.

---

To her dismay, the lounge was full of low and short cut murmurs of a squabbling group of geese. The rest of the crew sat sprawled out around the dining room table. Jimmy and Swansea sat next to each other on the side closest to the kitchen while Daisuke sat across from them. Just as every room in the Tulpar with an Ambiance Screen, it too was frozen on the eerie sunset. The large screen cast an orange glow and long shadows over the faces of the men. The dining room table they sat around was cluttered with empty cans and dirty utensils, with no way to wash or dispose of them.

“Nice of you to finally join us…Nurse.” Jimmy spoke first while clicking his tongue in annoyance. The woman remained idle by the door, half covered by the foam that enveloped the kitchen space. All of a sudden, Swansea’s bedroll seemed oddly intriguing as she avoided Jimmy’s scorn.

“I’m…sorry,” Anya murmured. “I didn’t realize you scheduled a secret meeting so early in the morning.”

“Early in the morning? Have you gone screwy? You’ve been hauled up in the medical room all day.” The man scoffed and leaned his cheek into his fist that was propped up on the table. “It’s night time. ” He spat. Anya didn’t even bother to recheck her phone for the time, but unless the others were in on the gag. It had to be true.

“Again…I’m sorry. I haven’t been feeling well. That must be it. I just get up long enough to tend to the Captain and back to bed I go.” The nurse stuttered as she attempted to make herself appear small. Anya didn’t have the mental capacity to argue. It was so much easier to let him get bored with tormenting her.

“Curly. Just Curly. Need I remind you what our former Captain did to us? He lost all rights to his title a long time ago.” Jimmy huffed. Anya eyed the two other men sitting at the table. Daisuke appeared uncomfortably sympathetic with his hands in his lap while Swansea hung low over the wooden surface. He stared off into nothing with a shrewd face drooping with annoyance.

“Right, right of course. Force of habit. I’m still a bit lightheaded.” Anya stammered as she tended to her forehead. It was only partially a lie. Her head pounded like a drum from dehydration, and Jimmy was a wall between her and satiation.

“So…how is he?” Jimmy asked quietly, which surprised Anya how quickly he moved away from chiding her.

“Ah, well…do you want the bitter truth or the sweet lies?” Anya asked, awkwardly rubbing her sweaty palms on her pant legs.

“I-is he going to die?” Daisuke interrupted, his voice quivered, and Swansea's chuckling immediately overran him.

“You're kidding, right?” The old man chortled. “I wouldn’t be surprised if our suicidal maniac weren’t already dead. You saw the state he was in when we cut him out of the cock pit.

“Only…briefly, from a distance,” Daisuke added. He didn’t partake in the excavation of the Captain's body. The older men were the ones who acted out the macabre scene. Anya had no desire to relive her part in the procedure. She would never forgive herself if she did.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s already dead and that these two are putting on a show for us.” Swansea swung his arms around to gesture at both Anya and Jimmy. Both of them recoiled at his statement, but Jimmy pounded his fist on the table.

“He’s not dead, you old coot! We would smell his rotting corpse throughout the entire ship if he were. Or did you forget about his hands and feet?!” Jimmy shouted while giving the table a good once-over.

“Not if…well, who’s to say you haven’t been snacking on nice juicy red meat lately? You seem to have an awful lot of energy lately.” Swansea said slowly while staring Jimmy down. Daisuke squirmed helplessly in his chair and twitched at the vile things Swansea was spewing.

Jimmy was up in a flash as his arm whipped around violently, striking his chair and sending it across the room towards the kitchen counters. Anya and Daisuke’s mouths fell open in shock at the violent outburst, while Swansea didn’t even flinch.

“I’ll cut your fat fucking legs off with that axe and eat those before I’d ever eat that roadkill. You don’t need them. You don’t do anything, you worthless man.” Jimmy snarled. Anya took this distraction and ambled towards the kitchen area in her sandaled feet, hoping Jimmy wouldn’t mind her doing her job. It didn’t matter what either of them thought. Curly was in dire straits right now, and all they were was a nuisance.

“Oooh hoho tough guy now aren’t ya? I dare you to take the axe from me without me knocking your skull in first.” Swansea lightly knocked the table with a clenched fist. “What do you think, kid? Wouldn’t you like to see a good show?” The mechanic turned towards the kid in question. Swansea’s voice was light, but his face was sour.

“N-no, I’m good. I think I’ve seen enough.” Daisuke stammered. “Can’t we get along? We are all in this together, aren’t we?” Anya peered over towards the intern as she rounded the counter and into the kitchen space. The small square footage was nearly engulfed in the insulation foam, destroying most of the equipment, but they managed to salvage some of it. Initially, Swansea had blown a hole in the cupboard that contained the dehydrated food. A risk they all greatly appreciated. It was their only means of obtaining their precious sustenance. All their water would be trapped in the hull if they didn’t.

“Of course, we are, Daisuke.” Jimmy spat. “I’m not the one who started this little altercation…ANYA, how is he?”

The nurse jerked up from below the counter by the summons, bearing two packets of water in one hand and protein stock in the other. “Still alive, Jimmy. However, any of you are free to come see him if you would like to confirm it. He isn’t in much of a position to check in on all of you.” Anya looked down sadly and sighed. “To be honest, he seems rather lonely with just me.” Daisuke melted into a pool of guilt, and Swansea just shook his head.

“You couldn’t pay me good credits to do that. I doubt his brain even functions anymore. What’s left for him to feel? He doesn’t even know who he is.” Swansea remarked. Jimmy clinched his fists but didn’t respond. Curly’s consciousness might have been a secret he had kept to himself as well. The cruelty that spewed from the old man’s mouth was shocking, and it agitated the woman, and she did her best not to show it. Swansea would have to come to terms with Curly’s humanity eventually, but it was a huge risk to bring it up now in front of Jimmy.

Anya chose to ignore the men’s bickering in favor of blending the stock with water in a discarded Tupperware container with a spent spoon. The tension emanating from the rest of the crew was feverishly high, and another issue she didn’t have time for. After using up most of the contents from one of the water pouches, she graciously squeezed the last of it into her mouth. The nurse sucked it dry, pressing the container bottom to top, being extra careful not to leave a single drop behind. It wasn’t more than a sip but just enough to keep her going for the day. The second packet of water she clutched tightly like a street urchin ready to bite.

“How about we get back to our dog and pony show? Does anyone have any GENIUS ideas on how we can get out of this stich? Roaming the halls and napping has led us to jack shit.” Swansea collected himself, even if his statement was a jab at our new Captain’s lack of progress.

“I’m working on it…” Jimmy grumbled, and he made the shameful walk to retrieve the chair he had flung earlier.

“I bet you are!” Swansea huffed.

“Oh yeah? And what are you doing day in and day out? You’re the mechanic. It’s your job to kick this bucket of bolts into gear.” The new Captain said begrudgingly as he positioned the chair and sat down hard, leaning back and folding his arms over his chest. Anya noticed him wincing as his bandaged hands brushed up against his coveralls. “I’m recovering, or have you forgotten? Not a whole lot I can do with this mangled mess.” Jimmy held up a hand and waved it in front of his face. “It's a bit difficult to dig the cock pit out with these tools, and someone won’t give me what I need to dig us out faster,” The gaunt man eyed the axe that had been set on the table. Swansea followed Jimmy’s eyes and aggressively slammed his hand down over its handle.

“Oh, as IF I’m going to allow you, of all people, to swing this baby around like a raging monkey at the scene of the crime. That’s where the most damage is. Get back to your spoons and keep chiseling away at it. Did you even dig out the personal computer, or are you just jerking off when no one is watching?” The old mechanic huffed, and Jimmy hesitated. His leg started to bounce in agitation.

“I’m working on it, as I said, it's difficult to do with damaged goods,” Jimmy mumbled. “And what about you? Have you managed to dig out ANY of the cryopods, or maybe YOU’RE too busy searching for that chode under all those rolls.” The man smiled. He was rather proud of himself for that one.

“HA, you’re really clever, aren’t you, EL CAPITINO? What are we waiting around here then? Maybe it’s time to get back to work.” The mechanic matched the new Captain’s stance and leaned back in his chair. All the while, the youngest member of the crew had given no input to this ridiculous conversation.

“W-what about the cargo hold?” Daisuke asked, finally speaking up. “We have no idea what’s in there, right? Maybe there’s something really useful in there. Like maybe more medical supplies, or parts that can fix the ship?” The old portly man just shook his head.

“We’d lose everything if we breached the cargo hold. What’s worse than starving to death in space is being saved and bankrupt. I won’t risk it. The company will have our asses if we so much as fondle the door.”

“Bah! Fuck Pony Express! Where are they when we need them the most? NOT HERE! They couldn't care less about whether we live or die. Either way, they won’t have to pay out. Dead is dead, and I’d rather live. It’s why we are keeping that sack of flesh alive, isn’t it? To throw him under the bus he created?” Jimmy jutted in. “It doesn’t hurt to take a peek, right, Daisuke? If the contents are shit, we can just tell the company the crash blew the doors open.” Daisuke hesitated but nodded eagerly, and Swansea shook his head but didn’t dispute the idea.

“W-what was that about digging out a computer?” Anya’s voice peeked around the curtain of testosterone. She couldn’t dispute the effectiveness of the resources they hoarded away down below, but there was no guarantee there was any value in them either. She wasn’t too keen on pursuing the idea until they had run out of options. There was a guaranteed surplus of life-sustaining supplies just out of reach beyond the foam wall. The only resource of value they were lacking was life-sustaining water, both for drinking and bathing. It seemed unlikely that that was the cargo they were lugging around space, given where they were going. Space Colony 23 was a self-sustained luxury resort. They were more likely to be dealing in luxury handbags than survival gear.

Swansea, annoyed but cooperative, answered her. “There’s an old beater of a computer in the cockpit. I’m talking older than you’ve been alive. No voice receiver, nothing but a fax machine. But it’s our one line of communication to the outside world. If we unearth that piece of shit and get it kicking again, it might just save our asses.”

Jimmy scoffed at his explanation. “It’s a waste of my time if you ask me. The power has been completely stripped from that wall. By some miracle, the center console is still functioning. We’d be better off trying to get the engines spinning again. Get the Tulpar to limp to the next resource station.”

“GRAND idea, hotshot. You think I’m some sort of Fairy Godmother? I can’t just Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo a set of new pistons to replace the cracked ones. Have any spare valve lines with your pocket change hidden in the couch cushions? Well then fuck me. I guess we are stranded. Our little ride on the gravel slip and slide did a number on the engine room, and Pony Express isn’t loosey-goosey with quality machinery.” Swansea flicked his wrist in contempt as if he were waving a magical wand. This constant bickering between the two men was getting them nowhere fast, as Anya struggled to maintain a façade of calm.

“As if your BIG plan isn’t full of holes itself, you bloated windbag. Without an outgoing signal, we won’t be able to connect the fax to a tower even if we move the console to a room with power. Face it, old man, we are desperate enough to take a leap of faith and pray to some bullshit god that what we drag around is worth our wasted time on it.” Jimmy wasn’t necessarily wrong either, and even implied he was knowledgeable about the ins and outs of the Tulpar, even if he didn’t look or act it most of the time. He wasn’t ignorant of the lack of signal from the ship either. Anya loathed the idea that the unhinged rapist could be essential to their escape plan, even though he was the reason why they were here in the first place.

“There wouldn’t be some way to get the signal on again…would there? Say…maybe resetting the system entirely?” Anya stumbled over her words as she carefully crafted the perfect persuasion, as she timidly walked around the counter, bowl in hand. If she could manage it, she could convince Jimmy that it was his idea the entire time, not something the Captain had informed her of. Right now, it didn’t matter if that horrid man took the credit as long as it worked. If her part to play in this charade was a dimwitted, naive little girl, she would perform her piece masterfully. Her mask was secured and perfected.

Jimmy eyed her carefully. His bandaged hands crossed in front of his chest with his legs spread wide. Was he lax or attempting to intimidate her? She couldn’t tell. Swansea simply huffed and shook his head again. Was her question really all that idiotic, or did they not know? That seemed impossible. Daisuke, sitting across the table, looked curiously back and forth between the two older men. The poor kid was truly just along for the ride.

“Impossible.” Was all the new Captain spat out.

“W-why??” Anya’s shoulders tensed, and her arms drooped.

“Because it's too damn dangerous to access it, you airhead.” Jimmy groaned while cracking his neck, rolling it over his shoulders. “The maintenance tunnel where it’s stored is completely obstructed by insulation foam. Anywhere along that hall could be a breach in the ship. The breaker is still operational, as it should be. But there is no guarantee resetting it will do jack shit, and worst case, it’ll kill our power to dick with it. It’s not worth the risk.”

Anya stepped forward towards Jimmy. “You think THAT’S less dangerous than digging around the cockpit??”

“Are your ears clogged, or didn’t you hear that I’m against fucking with that foam either?” The new Captain retorted. This was news to her. “If we can get the engine running, and as long as the autopilot is functioning, we can get this clunker to man itself without digging around.” Anya winced at the mention of the ship's autopilot. If this bastard hadn’t disabled it in the first place, they wouldn’t be in this damn mess.

“Would you PLEASE get your head out of your ass?” Swansea raised his voice again.” Your plan is a bedtime story. There is no way we are getting that engine up and running again.”

“I thought you agreed we could take a look at the cargo!” Jimmy leaned forward in his chair to eye the man.

“My silence wasn’t a damn ‘yes’, but go ahead, rummage around in the cargo hold. Be my guest! There probably isn’t shit in there I could wipe my ass with.” The mechanic brushed Jimmy off and rested his chin on his hand, and leaned on the table.

“The cargo hold doesn’t matter. What you do or don’t do with it isn’t going to help us either way. I think we should try to flip the breaker.” Anya said with more authority than she intended.

“Ooooh, do go on Nurse . Please explain to the class your expertise in engineering. I’m sure it’s quite accelerated, just like your medical knowledge.” Jimmy mocked her with delight. Anya wanted to bite back so hard, but refrained. He’s right, she wasn’t an expert, but suspected Curly’s advice meant more than gold.

This conversation was futile. The woman peered towards Daisuke, vying for support from the younger man, but his eyes darted from her line of sight. He knew just as much as she did about the matter. The one she really needed to convince was Swansea, who looked caught up in deep thought.

Without looking at her, he replied in a mumble. “Well, we need the computer, and the signal is out, so the only way to make it more than a glorified paperweight is to fix the system. Yes, there is a chance that resetting the entire breaker would work…But—” The tides were turning in her favor, the seeds of change had sprouted, and it was up to Anya to nurture their growth.

“But?” She asked, filling in the silence as his voice trailed off. “You knew this all along, didn't you? Why didn’t you try it before?”

“Because, as Jimbo said, one small breach and we are all dead. Insides pulled out our assholes dead.” The old man sighed.

“It looks to me like we are dead no matter what.” Anya’s shoulders slumped. “...maybe…maybe that means we should just try something? Dead now or dead later, it's all the same, isn’t it?”

“And no one gave YOU the authority to decide that.” Jimmy jumped to his feet and approached her at his full height with his fists clenched, fingers digging painfully into his scarred hands. “Who’s to fucking say if we just held out a little longer, someone will find us eventually? I’m not going to throw that chance away because you’re emotional and impatient.” Anya wanted to retaliate. She wanted to yell. If she had all the courage in the world, she’d tell him he was a blind fool, out of his mind, a vile human being. That she had no reason in this world to trust a god damn thing he said because he tried to kill them. She held her tongue, but her glass case was cracking.

“I don’t have suicidal ideation…Jim. I want to live, I want everyone to live. Including Curly. Yes…what he did ruined our lives, a coward's way out. But he can’t make anything up to anyone dead, or if we are all dead. You want him to live too, don’t you, Jim? We might be able to hold out another eight months, but can he?” Anya could feel a lump well up in her throat and begin to choke her. She meant the statement to be a bit of emotional manipulation, but instead she trounced herself. Jimmy’s eyes widened, and his throat caught. Instead of giving her a response, he returned to the table.

After a painful moment of dead air, he began to speak again due to his enjoyment of the sound of his own voice. “How about you do your damn job then, Nurse . If I didn’t have to worry about you doing your job correctly, then maybe I could focus on mine.”

The mountain resting on Anya’s back formed a great fissure, and a landslide of rock and debris collapsed on her.

“My job…MY…JOB.” Anya repeated as she rolled her tongue over the words to test their flavor. “You’ll have to forgive me. I’m a bit daft. But what exactly was my job again?” Venom lined the woman’s mouth. Jimmy turned and eyed her carefully, daring her to continue. “According to my job description, contractually obligated, I am to mend bumps and bruises, maybe a bit of dehydration. A horse pill for a bit of headache. Those STUPID ass psych evaluations. I’m a glorified SCHOOL NURSE! Not a hospital, Captain! As you love to remind me of CONSTANTLY, I’ve never been to medical school. There is nothing that qualifies me to tend to a man who's been skinned. The only reason I was even able to stitch up his amputated stumps is that I had a pocket sewing kit with me. Does that sound professional to you??” The nurse’s breath was haggard, and she could barely breathe as she fired them off. “And here all of you are now staring at me, eyes about to fall out of your heads, but never once have you considered helping me. As far as I am concerned, all of you are just about as qualified as I am.” Daisuke cowered on his side of the table. His shoulders scrunched, eyes full of shame as he tried to appear as small as possible. It couldn’t be said the same for the other two. Swansea had little reaction to her outburst and simply shrugged, then turned away from her. Jimmy appeared beside himself, fuming, red-faced with anger as he fidgeted with the palms of his hands. Digging in deep with his nails.

“Oh, boo hoo, poor pitiful little nurse you are. Isn’t this what you wanted? To be a doctor? Here’s your chance to put all that studying to use, and you’re STILL complaining. There’s a lot you seem to have forgotten, haven’t you? While you take care of the patient, the rest of us men are busy trying to get the ship to fly. You’re all talk, Anya, with your big ideas. You have no idea what you’re talking about. We are trying to save EVERYONE. You’ve got it easy. He sleeps all the time. YOU sleep all the time. There’s barely anything to do.” Jimmy spat and scratched at the bandages. The nurse clinched the take-out bowl in her hands until she heard a small pop. Looking down in shock, she saw the contents of the bowl slowly ooze out onto her hands. “Well, now you fucking done it,” The new Captain continued, eyeing the sopping mess in her hands. “Wasting precious resources again, god damn it, woman!”

Anya rushed back to the counter, broken bowl in hand. She was close to tears and thankful for the opportunity to turn her back to the others. Desperately toppling trash over in search of another container. Cans and used silverware toppled to the ground.

Stupid, stupid STUPID!

The nurse could no longer hold back her whimpers. Behind her, she could hear the sound of Jimmy flopping back into his chair again.

“God, women. I can’t stand their whining.” Jimmy bellowed, loud enough for those six feet under to hear. Neither of the others came to her defense. “Do us all a favor, and do your job, whether you want to or not. That's a Captain’s order. You’re just in the way here.” Anya managed to locate a second container, smaller and more battered than the first, but it could hold water, and at that point, that was all she could ask for. She was able to save most of Curly’s rations. But considered adding more of hers into the mixture.

Her tears were a mixture of anger and a pinch of despair over their lost supplies. Her armor had been shattered, and her core was full of indignation for her weakness. Anya hated being forced into silence by a lunatic who talked to his dead mommy and saw shadows that weren’t there. He was the one who crashed the ship, not Curly! More than anything, she wanted to call him out, put him on blast, and let the entire crew know he was the traitor amongst their midst! But how could she prove it? In their eyes, she would be just as guilty. She was there to witness the entire setup. No alibi, just the same as Jimmy, and he knew it. If she were to call him out, he could flip the script and make the same claim. Anya had no memory of what had happened after she tried to stop him from turning the autopilot off. All she remembered was coming to in the arms of her abuser. The reason why he chose to save her eluded her. It was something they had silently agreed never to speak of, or else incriminate each other. If only she had gone back to the Medical Bay when Curly had asked. Maybe then things could be different. It was foolish to cry over things that couldn’t be changed, but she had done nothing but make irrational choices.

Curly’s wails sounded out from the distance, bouncing off the walls and echoing around them.

Anya’s heart flatlined. Without a moment to spare, her thoughts emptied, and she ran down the hallway as if fueled by instinct. Her departure was swift and smooth, pausing only to allow the door to open and let her pass. The rest of the crew's reaction? She didn’t know; she couldn’t see or hear anything but the agonizing cries of her Captain as his tolerance for pain had finally collapsed.

The door to the Medical Bay shifted at an infuriatingly slow pace, so she was forced to cram her leg into the gap and pry it open the rest of the way with her foot. Anya’s sight blurred and jittered from anxiety as she attempted to focus on the man writhing in the cot before her. She dashed towards the bed, nearly knocking into it. Try as she might, she couldn’t steady her hands. For their safekeeping, she set the Tupperware on the chair and fiddled with the pants pockets of her coveralls, searching desperately for the bottle of painkillers. In her distress, the bottle slipped from her fingers several times before she was able to grasp hold of it. After securing a single capsule, she assessed her patient.

“Curly? Can you hear me?” She asked, her voice quivering and rushed. No response came from the man, so she asked again, this time louder. Still no response. The nurse raised a finger in front of the man’s face, pacing it slowly back and forth over his remaining eye. The test failed to catch his attention. His unblinking eye stared dully at the ceiling, and he appeared to be in a catatonic state. The pain was so great that his mind shut down to protect itself. Anya had no choice but to administer care without his explicit permission. No longer having the strength to lift the Captain’s hulking body without his assistance, his medication would have to be administered while he was lying flat. Not ideal, but no other choice. The poor woman’s hands had become numb and tingly due to hyperventilating. She needed to focus, but the words wouldn’t come to mind. She held her breath and dipped in close to the man, pill in hand. Her eyes focused heavily on his exposed teeth and inflamed flesh. Curly’s cries were gagged as he choked on his own spit. Right as the pill caressed his front teeth, she hesitated, his breath hot and smelling of decay on her face. Hot streams of tears swelled and drained from his remaining eye.

This was actual torture. Keeping him alive was inhumane.

Anya’s stomach was empty of everything but bile, creating a sour taste in her mouth, causing her to retch. She had half a mind to kill him now as painlessly as she could. In this state, he wouldn’t even know what happened. A bit of smothering with a pillow would be enough. He would pace peacefully.

“ANYA!” Another voice hollered out from behind her in between Curly’s cries, and it was enough to break her out of her trance. “Oh my God! I’m sorry, I didn’t know this was a private moment!” The nurse twisted around to view Daisuke, who was standing in the doorway. His hands were pressed firmly on the doorframe to support his weight as his legs were bent and limp under him. The sight of Curly drained all the color out of his face, leaving him pale with eyes wide open but turned away from them. Anya looked back at the patient, unsure of what the young man was talking about, but quickly understood his shock. When she had placed the bedpan underneath Curly, she simultaneously lifted his gown up past his hips to minimize the chance of him soiling it. Anya had abandoned him, fully exposed, and Daisuke was witness to a free show.

Nearly dropping the capsule in her hand, the nurse flew to Curly’s aid and snatched up the bedpan and set it on the floor, sliding it under the cot and out of sight. The damn thing was empty, invalidating the embarrassment. With one hand, the gown was carefully tugged past his hips, hiding his most intimate secrets. Perhaps there was a chance the boy hadn’t actually seen.

“You’re all clear, Daisuke, he’s covered. What do you want? I’m in the middle of something.” The woman huffed, circling back around the cot, hitting her thigh on the edge as she passed it. “Shit.” She mumbled under her breath.

“I was hoping I could help out with the Captain.” Daisuke gasped, unable to look back at Curly. The kid winced every time the man on the cot gagged on his cries.

“Well, get over here then, you’re no used to me by the door, and I could use some help lifting him up.” The woman said without hesitation as she stood next to Curly, turned towards Daisuke. “HURRY.” She snapped. “Can’t you hear him? I don’t know how much more he can take!”

A fire was lit under Daisuke’s ass, and he leaped towards the pair as if the floor were lava, but he fell just short of the bed. His eyes fixated on Curly, contorted from his suffering. The boy's hands were slick with sweat and balled into fists. This was his first meeting with Curly after the accident. Before, it had been a mere glance as Swansea and Jimmy carried him from the cockpit. Daisuke’s iris glazed over in fear.

“I—Iiiiee. I…”Daisuke’s voice trailed off as his body began to sway. “A-Anya, h-he’s, Oh my god Anya, he’s SO messed up. I’m looking at his insides! How is he even alive??”

“Not now, Daisuke! There’s no time for that. Lift him up, or leave! You’re in the way!” Anya yelled, grabbing his shoulder and giving the boy a shake.

“I-I don’t know, I have to touch him??” Daisuke mumbled and jerked. “Won’t that just…hurt him more?”

“DAISUKE.” Anya snapped sternly, and it was enough to persuade the kid into motion. He jumped in place and slid to the head of the bed for a front and center view of Curly’s frozen face. The intern scanned the man’s features and gulped, gagging on the stench radiating from the burned man.

“What do I do? How do I do it? Where do I grab?” Daisuke’s questions streamed from his mouth in a panic. His hands were floating over Curly, unsure of what their job was.

“Well, you’re not going to get very far from there. Come back to his side and slide your arms under him. Gently lift him up. I don’t need him all the way up. Just enough so he can swallow his medicine.” Anya instructed, gesturing for the boy to return to her, and he moved quickly, taking weighted steps. Daisuke did as he was told. He slowly pushed his arms underneath the man, and it took everything within him not to recoil from the sensation of the congealed blood and exposed flesh. Curly shifted and cried out, causing Daisuke to second-guess his movements, but he continued with encouragement from the nurse.

“He’s fine, it’s not you. Keep going.” She consoled him. “Yes, that’s right, aaaand lift!” Daisuke, with his strong arms, peeled the Captain away from the bedsheet and, in a fit of adrenaline, got Curly to sit up. The Captain gasped and screamed, causing Daisuke to flinch. “DON’T LET GO OF HIM!” Anya bellowed into the intern’s ear, countering the jerk, causing the boy to squeeze the man’s shoulders tightly. Curly's entire body tensed, but Anya didn’t correct the action. It was good enough, and now it was her turn. With her patient in the proper position, she took the time to prepare her supplies. She grabbed the water pouch off the chair and sat down on the cot to level herself with the two men. Curly wouldn't be able to accept the straw, making this situation require some finessing. Daisuke had already begun to struggle under the bigger man’s weight and joined Anya on the bed, using his whole body to steady himself. The internet retched and whimpered at every jerk the Captain made. His pink Hawaiian shirt was soaked in blood.

“You’re doing great,” Anya mumbled as she quickly tore a corner off the pouch. “Keep him secure. It reassures him to know you’re there.”

“I-if you say so.” The intern stuttered, his eyes bounced back and forth between Curly’s maimed face and Anya’s. He was unable to contain his morbid curiosity with the bloody man’s face nearly pressed into his own.

Anya delicately slipped the capsule inside Curly’s gaping mouth, far enough back that it hit his throat, making him gag and freeze. She whispered apologies for the violation and discomfort, but she couldn’t risk it slipping out. The intern flinched but didn’t question her. Anya was the professional among them. The capsule was quickly followed up on with water. With a merciful hand, she tipped Curly’s chin, opening his throat. He heaved as the involuntary muscles in his esophagus contracted around the capsule. However, the relief was swift. The nurse quickly plunged the water into his mouth, and the flow expelled the painkiller from the back of his throat. Curly spluttered and squirmed. He didn’t expect the water and fought Daisuke’s grip.

“Hold him…hold him,” Anya said gently as she massaged the Captain's throat to knead the fluid the rest of the way. “Perfect. Keep him steady. That was just the first part.” They just fired a rocket into his barren stomach. Without a little something to cushion the blow, he’d be trading one agony for another.

“How long does it take for it to start working? He’s still freaking out!” Daisuke fought back against Curly’s struggle to free himself from his confinement.

“It depends…It could take anywhere from thirty minutes to an hour.” Anya stated as she stirred the gray sludge in the bowl with a plastic spoon.

“A-an hour?? That’s insane!” Daisuke stammered. “There’s no way to speed this up?”

“An empty stomach will hasten the process but will also tear away at his stomach lining…it’s my fault for letting it get this bad in the first place.” The nurse’s heart was heavy with guilt, but she didn’t spare an idle thought on it. “Normally, I’m on top of it, giving him another dose before the previous effects completely wear off. It won’t happen again. I promise this isn’t a regular occurrence.” Anya fished out a nice, hardy spoonful of the slop and slid it into Curly’s mouth. The entire process was unbearably painful. With every mouthful, he fought the spoon and choked on its contents. Even in his dilapidated state, he had the might to wrestle with Daisuke. They were only trying to help him, but cruising on instincts alone, he acted as if his life was being threatened.

“W-why is he fighting it so much?” Daisuke stammered and squeezed. “Does it hurt?”

“Everything we do hurts, and it doesn’t help that the slop is disgusting. The taste of the unprocessed powder is bitter. He probably thinks he’s being poisoned. But you can’t focus on that, Daisuke. I promise we are helping him.” The nurse assured the intern of that with every spoonful she forced down the Captain’s gullet. In truth, the woman hated every second of the process. It was something she and Curly had discussed at great length. He knew there would be times when he was inconsolable and unreachable. She had been given the go-ahead to do what had to be done when he wasn’t capable of vocalizing his consent, but still, it hurt. It made her miserable to force her will on him, but even more so to see him in so much pain. Anya had to let it go and accept the truth that saving someone’s life wouldn’t always be clean. It would be up to her to use her best judgment and make tough decisions.

Not wanting to waste any precious nutrients, the nurse scraped the edges of the bowl with her finger, collecting the scraps in a small pool. She made sure to swipe the leftovers gently over the man's tongue and pressuring him to swallow it. The process of feeding him had exhausted his strength. Curly no longer squirmed, and his wails died down to a soft pule.

“Okay, okay, we are done torturing you, Captain. You did good. You’re okay.” Anya spoke gently and set the empty bowl aside. “You did great, too, Daisuke. Thank you. You can put him down now.” Daisuke appeared lost and unsure for a second. He gripped Curly as if his life depended on it.

“How do you do it?” He asked breathlessly.

“Someone has to,” Anya said dryly. “He’s okay now, Daisuke, you can let him go, I promise he’s not going to slip away.” She added with more sincerity in her voice. The young man heeded her words and slipped from the table. His arms strained and shook as he lowered Curly back onto the cot. “Could you do me one last favor and roll him onto his side?” She asked, and Daisuke looked at her questioningly. “It helps to prevent bed sores.” Daisuke nodded and pulled Curly towards him, facing the door. “You’re free to go, you’ve been a big help.” The intern was silent for a moment. He stared intently at Curly’s unwavering eye. It was red and painfully dry from the exposure. His tears didn’t help the matter. Curly had gone unusually still and quiet.

“Hey…how do you know if he’s dead or not?” Daisuke asked. “Wow, haha damn, all I do is ask a lot of questions, don’t I? I bet it gets annoying.”

“Not really, you actually care enough to ask. More than what the others do. Well, an easy way to tell if he’s dead or not is that he’s still breathing.” Anya smirked. Curly’s breath was ragged and harsh. The silence only lasted a moment as he reset himself. His entire body shook every time he gasped for air.

“You’re right, that’s stupid. But I think if I were you, I’d become obsessed with checking and listening for it.” The intern chuckled nervously.

“I do…actually. All the time, and when he goes unusually still, I shake him awake.” The nurse admitted solemnly. The adrenaline she felt during the commotion was quickly fading away. She felt tired and weak. Starving and parched most of all. Still in her hand was the remainder of the water she had given Curly. Her water. There was just enough left for a mouthful.

“Sleeping without any eyelids sounds like hell.” Daisuke grimaced. “I can’t imagine how he manages it.”

“You’ve never been that tired.” She shook her head and lifted the slimy pouch to her lips and downed it in one go. Even the taste of iron didn’t detract her. She needed it more than she was willing to admit. Daisuke watched her and recoiled in disgust.

“Yoooo, no offense to the Captain, but eew.” He grimaced. “Can’t you just go get your own?”

“This one is mine.” Anya asserted. “Curly and I are sharing our rations.” Admitting what she has been doing was difficult. Almost embarrassing for the woman.

“W-what? What does that mean?” The intern struggled.

“It means I’ve been giving Curly the bigger slice of my pie.” Silly metaphors softened the blow.

“B-but Anya. That sounds dangerous.”

“It is dangerous, but I was left with no other option. I tried to tell Jimmy that Curly needed more than any of us combined. But he wouldn’t listen! He just told me to ‘figure it out. ’” Anya gripped the crumpled pouch tightly in both hands. “I don’t enjoy living like this. I didn’t ask to be a martyr. But what else am I supposed to do? Look at him, he’s barely holding on as is. He doesn’t have enough energy to heal…not that he could ever heal in any capacity out here in space, but but..but..” All of a sudden, the woman felt lightheaded and fell into the bedside chair in a crumple. Her words began to slur, and her vision started to fade. The last thing she saw was Daisuke standing over her, hand on her shoulder, shaking her. But she couldn’t hear him, even though his mouth was moving.

Just a five-minute nap. It’s all she needed. After that, she’d be fine.

---

Anya woke to the sound of snoring. She had no idea how long she had nodded off for, but once her vision cleared, she could make out Curly’s form, caught in the shadow of the sunset. The snoring was all his. It was irregular and loud. Enough to drive anyone else insane, but she could feel her body relax, and a faint smile crept up along her parched lips. His snorts were an indicator that he had genuinely fallen asleep and wasn’t just knocked out by the pain.

“God damn. That is an incredible symphony. He’s got the pipes to give Swansea a run for his money.” A voice next to her spooked her, and she leaped back in her chair. At some point, Daisuke had retrieved the second chair from the nurse’s desk and remained at her side. It was placed backwards, and he casually straddled it, chin resting on the back of the chair. “I can’t believe you slept through this. You’ve been conked out for over an hour, and he’s been revving that engine the entire time.” Daisuke turned to her. A coy smile stretched across his face. “I don't know which one of you is more impressive.”

“Odd thing for you to say. You’re the one who sleeps like a log.” Anya stretched and rubbed her eyes with her blood-plastered hands, allowing a great big yawn to consume her. “He has a sinus infection, and his nasal passage may have been crushed in the accident. There isn’t much I can do about it.” The smile slipped off Daisuke’s face. She felt a bit sorry for the young man trying to lighten the mood, so she continued. “I didn’t sleep for several days after he started this cacophony. It was enough to make me want to smother the poor soul for some peace. But…gradually, after a while, I developed a tolerance for it, and now I have trouble sleeping when he’s quiet. I wake up periodically in the night to nothing and selfishly disturb him. Silence scares me. I’m going insane, but I don’t care anymore.”

“That makes sense to me…here, take this before I forget.” Daisuke pulled a mass of tinfoil from his pocket and held it out for her. “I saved some of the good stuff for you. It’s not much, but it’s better than slop.” Anya graciously accepted the wad from the young man. Its contents were cold to the touch, but her stomach growled in anticipation as she unwrapped her unexpected present. Inside the wrapper was a slice of bread folded in half with peanut butter lathered in the middle. Her eyes sparkled in delight at the sight of real food. “Don’t tell the old man, but there is a little extra peanut butter on there just for you.”

“D-Daisuke, how did you get this? I mean, I know how, but…but you shouldn't have.” Her lips pursed as she had half a thought to save the sandwich for later, as much as she needed it, the ship didn't have the surplus to spare.

“Well…let’s just say I helped myself to the other slice of the sandwich.” He murmured.

“Oh, Daisuke, I can’t ask that of you. You don’t owe me anything. It’s not your responsibility.” She glanced over at the intern, a slight frown on her face.

“I know, I know. I’m not doing this out of guilt. I’m doing this because I want to, so please eat it. Everyone wants Curly to live, but only you are trying to help. And…and I know this doesn’t mean all that much now, but I don’t like how Jimmy treats you…I just…I just don’t know how to speak up, you know? I’m the newest one here—the baby. I don’t know jack shit. I’m just along for this bumpy ride. It’s a shit excuse. I’m sorry. I SHOULD say something, I just don’t know. It’s easy to toe the line and do what I’m told…” Daisuke raised his arms and propped them up under his chin in defeat as he puffed.

“It’s not your job to defend me either…” The woman sighed, even if she hadn’t entirely meant it, but understood. She did the same. The constant arguing got them nowhere. They couldn’t risk turning on Jimmy now. That was for later, when they are safe on Earth. “I’m the same…obviously. I’m killing myself to keep Curly alive. That little tantrum I threw did nothing but make me look even more pathetic, and now I have to worry about whether or not Swansea is still willing to go along with the plan.

“Your idea to get the signal back on?”

“Yes…it’s crucial to Curly’s plan, so…shit. I can’t believe I screwed up like that! Could Curly himself explain it to him? Would that work?” The woman grumbled through small bites of the sandwich. It was the greatest thing she’s ever tasted, and she would savor all of it.

“He will,” Daisuke said with certainty in his voice. “I’ll butter him up a bit. He thinks we’re all annoying, you’re nothing special in his book.”

“I sure hope so.” There was a long swath of silence as Anya finished her food.

“You're strong, Anya,” Daisuke started. When she looked towards him, his face flushed a dark red. “I’d never be able to do what you do, and I only did what I did because you were here with me. You say you’re doing this because no one else will, but I think it’s more than that. If you weren’t here, he would have died a long time ago. His screams freak me out, and if I were being honest, I wish we had put him out of his misery a long time ago.” Anya adjusted in her chair and thought for a while.

“Just a bit ago, before you interrupted us, I thought the same. The idea has crossed my mind a thousand times. It doesn’t get any easier listening to him cry. Yeah, part of me believes I’m being cruel, but…” Her face scrunched as she held back the tears welling up in the corners of her eyes. “I’m weak, I can’t do it, but it’s not just that. He doesn’t want to die. He wants to live, and I…I want him to live too. I don’t have the right to take the life he clings to so fiercely. Or at least, that’s what I tell myself. Am I being selfish? I don’t know if it’s all for me or him anymore. I convinced myself he owes it to me to live, and I might be a bully for not letting him go.” A single tear dropped from her eye, and she got caught on a sniffle. The corners of Daisuke’s mouth fluttered and tilted into a half-hearted smile.

“You might be on to something there.” His smirk turned into a grimace, causing his dimples to crease his cheeks. “I have a secret about us guys. Nothing gets a man more desperate and stupid than when he’s trying to please a pretty girl. Especially one he likes. Double the cringe if he catches you crying. He’d belly flop into fire again if you asked, and all you want from him is to live. I’d say that makes him a keeper.” Daisuke playfully nudged her in the arm with his elbow. “How could you possibly say no to that?”

Anya stared at the boy, dumbfounded, and cast her gaze back on the Captain. Those feelings of affection she once felt have been crammed into the back of a junk drawer. She had yet to contemplate her feelings for the changed man before her now. No longer was he a rippling, muscle-bound steed in the prime of his life. Those soft, bouncing golden locks she daydreamed of running her fingers through had all burned away to ash. Only one of his crystal-blue eyes remained. At one point, she found herself lost in them, mystified by their striking color. Now it was unwavering, unblinking, desperate for relief and rescue. All the things she once found herself caught off guard by, filled with butterflies over, were replaced by dread. His anatomy on full display disgusted her to the core. Curly became the monster in her nightmares that stalked her. When she found herself lost and alone in the darkness, she could hear his screams off in the distance. Continuous and unable to be quelled. Even if he lived, it wasn’t as if new limbs were going to sprout from his wrists. What kind of life was she hoping for him? The magnitude of responsibility required to care for someone in this state for the rest of their life was daunting. The thought squeezed at her insides, filling her with loathing. She didn’t ask to be anyone’s caretaker. It felt like further punishment for the crimes committed against her.

After all, SHE was the one who tried to stop Jimmy. She knew how dangerous and deranged he was. It was Curly, the BIG STRONG POWERFUL LEADER, who let the snake slide through his fingers. In his complacency, he allowed the disaster to unfold. He wouldn’t be lying there struggling to breathe if he had just knocked Jimmy once in the head. This was his punishment.

Tears flowed freely from the woman’s eyes.

“A-Anya?” Daisuke’s voice called to her from far away.

Horrid, disgusting woman. Vile. Evil. No one deserved this. Anya had no clue how Curly even ended up in the cockpit after she had been knocked out, and so much time had elapsed before she came to. The colors of her heart were blended into sludge as she struggled to sort through her emotions. It was impossible. They were far too muddied to discern how she truly felt, so all she could do was cry.

The thought of him being dead caused her to spiral and cave. But what else was there for him after all this? She could picture him now in some shit assisted living facility. Lying in a bed or rolled into a corner, forgotten. Unattended too. Alone. A shadow of his former self. Withering away to skin and bone. So much anger burned inside the woman. She hated Curly’s failures but panicked over the idea of losing him.

But why? Why did she care so much?

“Hey, are you okay? It-it was just a joke, I swear. You don’t have to like him or anything, I get it. I’m just, you know, trying to make light of a crazy situation.” A subtle hand reached out and graced her shoulder. The nurse looked at the hand and then at Daisuke. She knew she must have looked out of her mind. But with the tears came a great relief of her frustrations that she had locked up tightly for so long.

“Why do you think he did it?” The woman suddenly asked. “I guess it wouldn’t be a stretch to see the pressure getting to him, you know?” She stared intently at Curly’s mangled form. He let out a unique set of honks and grumbles that she couldn’t help but smile at. Somehow, despite his gruesome appearance, he appeared almost secure in his drug-induced state. Daisuke’s hand slid from her shoulder as he formulated a response.

“I uh…”His voice broke. “W-well…actually. I wanted…to tell you something…ask you something aaaghh, I don’t know how to put this, shit.” The woman cocked an eyebrow and goaded him to continue. “Would you think I was crazy if I told you…I don’t think he crashed the ship…it wouldn’t make any sense, doesn’t make sense, I mean.”

Anya’s eyes widened and fell as they stayed transfixed on the man in the bed. “How can you think that? Who else could have done it?” She asked.

“Oh, ah well…mmm. That’s just the thing. I don’t want to accuse anyone of anything, but what I DO know is that I was with the Captain when the alarms went off. We were right here in the Medical Bay when it happened. We actually just dropped your mattresses off when it happened, and you weren’t here. To be honest, I don't think I’ve ever seen him that panicked—or yelling. He’s never raised his voice to me before that moment, but he looked so scared. I mean, I was scared too, might even have pissed myself a little when we hit. But there’s just no way, no fucking way he could have steered us into that rock. I don’t know how any of this works. Maybe it was an accident? I might have even believed it was if Jimmy wasn’t so insistent that Curly did it. Fuck, ah, I know what I’m saying now is all hearsay too. None of us were together when it happened, so shit, maybe I did it. Swansea showed up right after the alarms sounded. Maybe he was the mastermind all along?” Daisuke paused and laughed. “Yeah…no way. He doesn’t care enough either way to kill us.” Anya’s entire body tensed. He didn’t directly point a finger at her, but she knew what he was implying. She wasn’t where she was supposed to be. Her little suicidal bout incriminated her.

“...I know he didn’t do it,” Anya murmured, too ashamed to look the boy in the eye.

“R-really?? How?” Daisuke spun in his seat towards her.

This was it. It was time to confess. It felt necessary if they were to save each other—one less secret from the boy who trusted her so. Anya admitted to herself that she was scared, but things couldn’t get any worse.

“I know because I was in the cockpit. I didn’t go to the Medical Bay or stay in the common area. I went to the cockpit because I knew Jimmy was there.” Anya grimaced as she clung pathetically to her pants legs. “You don’t have to believe me either way, but that’s the truth. I wanted to bait Jimmy, get him angry, see what he would do when I did. But then I had a change of heart and regretted it all. But it was too late. I couldn’t change his mind…”

“...What do you mean by that?” Daisuke’s voice stammered.

“Jimmy always intended to crash the ship, and I nudged him over the edge. We got into a fight and he hit me hard enough to knock me out…Sorry, I don’t know what happened after that.” She whispered.

“B-but why??” His voice cracked.

“I’m sorry, that’s where I draw the line. What Jimmy did to me, I can never forgive him for. Not in a million years. Not if he got down and growled at my feet. Let me beat him until he bled. Nothing would change. I only put up with him the best I can because I know fighting him won’t save us now.” Anya shook her head and finally met Daisuke’s gaze. “Hate me if you want…part of me hates myself too. I wish I were as kind as you think I am.” Daisuke leaned back in his chair and sighed.

“I guess both you and the Captain are just as human as the rest of us.” He mumbled.

“Mmm…seems so.” Every time the pair fell silent, her mind wandered back to Curly’s snores. That’s all he was, human. Capable of both destructive errors and genuine kindness. “...mmm, you’re not acting all that surprised about Jimmy…”

“I believe you, Anya.” Daisuke started. “Well, what I mean to say is that I really want to believe you, and I want to believe in Curly too. It makes sense to me. If it wasn’t a freak accident, and Curly couldn’t have done it, then it makes the other pilot sus. Why does Jimmy insist Curly did it and not you or a huuuuuge meteor materializing in front of us out of nowhere?” He rocked the chair back and forth, his fists pressed into his cheeks for support. It was a mystery. Anya pondered the thought, sliding back in her chair and staring at the foam that crept along the ceiling. Deep shadows flicked across their lumpy surfaces from the crashing light of the ocean on the screen.

“....because if we were found, and if the Tulpar were tug boated home, they’d know the autopilot was turned off manually and didn’t malfunction.” She said thoughtfully. “It’s easier to blame the dead man than someone who wasn’t trained to fly.”

“Well…shit.” The intern scoffed.

“You know, it’ll make the good Captain happy that you still believe in him.”

“He’s good on his word after all.” Daisuke paused. “Right as he ran off to try and save the ship, he promised me he’d come back…and he did. Look at him, he’s fucked, but he survived a bomb to the face. He’s Superman!” Anya chucked a little.

“You should tell him that when he wakes up. It’ll embarrass him real good.”

“Do you think he’s still in there?”

“I know he is Daisuke. You can still see his spirit in his eye, and he’s trying so hard to save us all.” Anya shared a small smile with the young man. She wasn’t sure if the Captain’s voice was her secret to tell, but she wanted to leave Daisuke with that hope. “You’ll see, he can come back from this. He owes me his life after all.” The nurse leaned forward and started tracing Curly’s outline with her eyes. Taking note of his chest as it expanded and compressed. How his shoulders swayed and his legs twitched. Was he dreaming? She hoped he was millions of miles away from here.

Notes:

Thank you so much to everyone for your continued support!
I can't believe I've actually gotten this far with writing this fic. The more I progress and become more confident with the material, the easier it becomes to write. I love writing, and I am SO excited for the next couple of chapters. ;)

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