by Kelly Jensen
Zed lowered his gaze, fighting for composure. The rest of the crew remained silent. Fingers nudged his and he opened his hand, thankful for Flick’s gesture of solidarity.
“I wish—” He had to clear his throat again. “I wish—”
“She knows, man,” Flick murmured, squeezing his hand. “See, that was one of the things Em did best—knowing what we all needed. Having trouble on the range? She’d have a technique for you. Having trouble with studying? She knew a trick to help you memorize shit. She was just...like a lowercase-g guardian. Yeah. Looking out for everyone, right up until the end.” He grunted, something that might have been a curse—probably because his throat was as tight as Zed’s.
“She saved my life,” Elias said. “I...you know, I knew what she did but what it meant hit me a few hours later. She stepped in front of a bullet for me. She died to save me. She didn’t know me. Hell, I don’t even think she liked me. But she did that. She didn’t think about it, she just did it. And that...” His jaw flexed, his nostrils flaring as he wrangled his emotions back under control. “I’m never going to forget that.”
They waited for Nessa to say something, but instead of speaking, soft notes of an old song drifted through the echoing cargo bay. Qek’s clicks wove a counterpoint through the music, turning the familiar “Amazing Grace” into something more. Emma would’ve liked it, Zed decided. She probably would’ve begged him to try to replicate the sounds later on his wallet.
Maybe later he would.
* * *
Zed watched the clock on his wallet tick over to 00:00. Staring at the countdown felt sort of stupid, which is why he hadn’t protested when Flick drifted off. Not that he’d known Zed was planning on marking the time. Sharing that with Flick would’ve been even stupider than counting down.
“Are you still stoned?”
So much for not waking Flick. The man slept like a cat. Zed chuckled and tossed his wallet onto the shelf above Flick’s bunk. He wondered again if he should’ve revealed why he seemed so unfocused after sex, but Flick had seemed truly concerned, so there really hadn’t been much choice.
“No.” Light bounced off his lover’s blond hair, rainbows arcing, distracting him for a breath with the sheer beauty...Zed blinked. “Maybe a little.”
“Super stoner.” Flick shifted so his chin lay on a hand resting on Zed’s chest, and a smile slowly stretched across his lips. “You are so cute.”
Zed sputtered. “Cute? I am not—”
“You’ve got this little smile and your eyes are all dopey and really blue, so yes, Zander Anatolius, you are cute.” Flick nuzzled one of Zed’s pecs, then resumed his easy position on his chest. “You should probably sleep it off, though. What were you looking at on the wallet?”
“The time.”
“You have somewhere to be?”
“Nope. Nowhere.” He brushed one of Flick’s curls. “It’s been six days.”
“Six days since what?”
“Since we got back together.”
Flick’s brows drew together as he counted back the days. “How do you figure? You hired us ten days ago.”
“Right, but we had sex six days ago.”
“If you’re going to count from sexual contact, you should probably start from you grinding against me in the shower the day before that.”
“Good point. Still...” Zed smiled. “We’ve made it longer than ever before.”
“Shut up before you jinx it.”
Things weren’t perfect, but at this point, Zed doubted perfection was even attainable. He wasn’t about to get greedy. He and Flick skimmed along the surface of what they shared, day by day. No deep talks for them, nope. He couldn’t make promises and he figured that Flick understood that, after Emma.
They hadn’t really talked about her, either, other than what they’d said in the cargo bay in front of her ashes, but there wasn’t much to say. Or...not much that Zed wanted to say on either the topic of their lost friend or what she’d been experiencing at the end. It would come for him soon enough, and discussing it wouldn’t change anything.
“Now your eyes are going gray.” Flick’s lips twisted. “Stop thinking, Zed.”
“I can’t go my whole life without thinking.”
“At this point, I’d settle for five minutes.”
“Ass.”
Flick scooted upward and pressed a kiss to Zed’s jaw. “Whatever comes, man.”
“I can’t just...I need a plan, Flick. I need to know what to do if—”
“You’re not Emma.” All traces of mischief and humor left Flick’s green eyes. “You’re not being stupid about what you can do, you’re not pushing yourself into situations where you’ll break.”
Zed’s gaze ventured up to the ceiling. He wanted to believe Flick was right. “But what if—”
“Zed.” A hand cupped his cheek and Zed looked down at his friend, his lover. Flick’s eyes were no less serious than they’d been a moment before, but something else was there, too, something that softened his gaze. “I’ll take care of you.” One corner of his mouth crooked upward. “We all will. You’ve got a crew now. You’re not alone, not anymore.”
Zed’s arms wrapped around Flick, holding him tight to his chest, and he concentrated on breathing steadily and evenly. Not alone. He’d forgotten what it was like, to not be alone, to share his burden with someone else who carried it willingly.
“Day by day,” Flick said against his neck. “Whatever comes.”
* * * * *
About the Author
Jenn Burke
Jenn’s always been drawn to weird and wonderful stories, particularly those set between the stars, or juxtaposed with our normal, boring world, or...well, just about any of them, really. Her love of the written word prompted her to get a Bachelor of Arts in English Literature from the University of Ottawa, and she’s spent the years since working in corporate and web communications—and dreaming up weird and wonderful stories of her own. A self-confessed geek, Jenn loves spending time in the worlds of video games, surfing her favorite websites, reading all the romance novels she can get her hands on, and accumulating an impressive collection of nerdy T-shirts. She currently lives outside of Ottawa, Ontario, with her husband, two kids and her writing helper, Alenko the husky.
Kelly Jensen
Born in Australia and raised everywhere else, Kelly now lives in Pennsylvania with her husband, daughter and herd of four cats. After disproving the theory that water only spins counter-clockwise around drains north of the equator, she turned her attention to more productive pursuits such as reading, writing, writing about reading and writing stories of her own. She also enjoys volunteering at her local library and playing video games, and holds a brown belt in Kiryoku, a martial art combining Shotokan, Aikido and Tang Soo Do. Her family is not intimidated by her.
Kelly is the author of Less Than Perfect, a tale of love and adventure in post-apocalyptic America, and “Domestic Bliss,” a story of love and robots. It’s not kinky. Well, maybe it is.