Sound Tracking 5/5

[turps]

When he wakes again, Bob feels good. The beats around him are calm, and when he sits up he sees that Gerard is still sitting propped up in the bunk, head forward and his hand against Mikey's back. It gives Bob hope that they've started to fix things. Then Mikey wakes up and as soon as he's aware he cringes from Gerard's touch, almost knocking Gerard to the floor in his scramble to get out.

"I told you not to touch me," Mikey spits out and he stalks away, looking at no one as he goes into the bathroom.

"I'll go," Frank says wearily, and he appears out of Gerard's bunk, rubbing at his eyes, the blanket wrapped around his shoulders as he follows Mikey. Which leaves Gerard sitting alone, dejected in look and feel. Pushing back the urge to throttle Mikey, Bob climbs out of his bunk and goes to sit next to Gerard. Deciding against any platitudes--Bob knows that right now Mikey means what he says; he also knows that anger rarely lasts forever--Bob remains silent and waits.

"It's good that he's so angry," Gerard says eventually. He touches his face, his neck, his hair. "He keeps things bottled up, so expressing how he feels is healthy."

"Maybe," Bob says. "But he's expressing that anger at the wrong target."

Gerard looks at Bob and at first it looks like he's going to protest. Then he leans so he's lying against Bob's side. "My neck hurts."

"That's what you get for sleeping sitting up," Bob says, but he's already urging Gerard up, ignoring his protests to knead at Gerard's neck and shoulders. Eventually, when Bob's hands are aching and Gerard's as relaxed as he's going to get, Bob stops kneading and Gerard looks back at him through a veil of his hair. "Thank you."

"It's nothing," Bob says, and makes sure he's decent before standing. "You want something to eat?"

"Coffee, otherwise I'll fall asleep."

"Make that two." Ray jumps down from his bunk, bare feet slapping against the floor. As it always is in the mornings, his voice is raspy and he coughs behind his hand, doubling over as Bob goes and grabs him a drink. Taking it, Ray swallows nearly all the water in one. "Thank you."

"You can thank me by making breakfast," Bob says, sounding utterly serious.

"My lungs don't work properly and I'm still expected to help with breakfast? What about Gerard?"

Hamming it up, Gerard presses the back of his hand to his forehead and tips back his head as if he's about to swoon. "I'm still weak from my year of isolation at the club."

"Right," Ray says, drawing out the sound. He looks at Bob. "And what's your excuse?"

"I'm still suffering after-effects from the shatter planet; my mind may never be the same again. In fact, what did you say your name was?"

"Sucker, apparently." Ray puts his hands on his hips, trying for stern but the twitch of his lips betrays him as much as his light-hearted beat.

"Sucker Toro. It has a nice ring to it." Gerard smiles as he stands and waves his hands toward the kitchen. "Go. Make me coffee."

"I'll make the coffee if you two get the food."

It's a good suggestion. Making the coffee is easy on Ray's hands, which are still healing from working at the mines. Plus, while he won't admit it, Bob likes watching the enjoyment Gerard gets out of cooking, especially his fascination with the pancake drops.

"Sounds good to me." As expected, Gerard grabs a tube of pancake drops and squeezes a drop onto a plate, watching intently as it expands into a fully formed pancake. It doesn't take long before he has a stack, and Bob chops up a bowl of hisnat fruits, shaking sucre on top. Taking the mugs of coffee off Ray, he puts them on the table and looks up at the two remaining chairs that are folded up and still attached high up on the wall. He reaches up and pulls them both down, setting them next to the table.

"I'll go get Frank and Mikey," Ray says, and the easy-going atmosphere in the room changes, tension bleeding in once more as he knocks at the door. "Frank, Mikey. There's breakfast."

It's a surprise when the door immediately opens, Frank pulling Mikey out behind him. They both sit, Mikey as far away from Gerard as he can possibly be. It's something that doesn't go unnoticed and even the pancakes don't tempt Gerard to eat more than a few bites. Mikey doesn't eat either, just rips a pancake into shreds and drinks three cups of coffee. Which leaves Bob, Ray and Frank to finish the food. They manage, though Frank eats the least by far.

Pushing away his plate, Gerard says, "I think I'm going to lie down a while." He goes to his bunk, crawling under the blanket and pulling it up over his head.

Standing, Bob gathers the dishes and slots them into the cleanser. They clatter against the sides and he slows down his movements because the thing is, Bob's got this crew, but he doesn't know what to do with them. Gerard's hiding, Frank and Mikey are whispering together, and Ray looks like he's torn between them all.

If he's honest with himself, Bob never expected it to be this hard and suddenly he's remembering days of solitude, lying in his bunk with a holo pad and streamed tele novel. Idealistic memories he knows, but right now they're better than this--where he has everything he had before, but it's all wrong somehow.

"You have 3D scrabble." Bob turns and sees Ray stretching up for a small control box. When he grabs it he looks at the display. "Is it okay to play?"

"Go for it, but I warn you, I'm good."

Ray sets the box in the middle of the table. "I bet you're not as good as nimble fingers Way, here." He pushes a series of buttons and the scrabble grid is projected in the air, letters floating in the air in four places. "I've set it for four, expert level."

"Fine," Bob says. "Prepare to be crushed."

It turns out Mikey Way is some kind of genius at the game. He can tap out a series of words at an incredible rate, slotting them onto the board while everyone else is still arranging their letters. It's a challenge Bob can't resist, but three games later he's still being soundly beaten when Gerard starts to stir. He's still asleep, Bob can feel that, but suddenly his beat surges, becomes frantic with fear as Gerard yells, "Mikey!"

They all stand to go to him, but Mikey gets there first, seemingly acting on instinct as he drops to his knees and reaches for Gerard.

"Gerard, I'm here. It's okay."

Still caught in the nightmare, Gerard twists around and grabs Mikey's wrists, holding tight. "You're not taking him! Leave him alone! No!"

"Gee. It's okay. I'm here."

"No! Stop hurting him. Mikey!"

"Gerard. Stop. I'm okay. I'm safe." Mikey shakes at his wrists as hard as he can, trying to jolt Gerard.

"Mikey?" Gerard opens his eyes, blinking hard.

"I'm here," Mikey says, and then as if it registers that he's leaning close to Gerard, Mikey tries to pull away. "Though I don't know why, let me go."

"I thought..." Gerard swallows hard, and then releases his grip so Mikey can stand. He looks at his own hands which are smeared with blood. He blinks, as if unsure of what he's seeing. "I've hurt you."

A beat passes, then two. "Not like it's the first time," Mikey spits, and walks away, cradling one wrist in his hand.

Frank sighs. "I'll take Gerard, you'll need to check Mikey's wrists, they were fucked up."

"No, I'll check them. Bob, can you get the case?" Ray stands, sounding and looking stern. When Mikey tries to get past him he grabs his arm and pulls him to the table. "Sit down."

Mikey does, though he looks past Ray as if he doesn't even exist, which prompts Ray to cradle Mikey's jaw, tilting his head so he has to look. "No you don't, you're going to listen to me."

Ray's voice is low, but Bob can still hear him as he gets the medical case, and he knows Gerard and Frank can too as they talk quietly, Frank wrapped around Gerard. Taking the case into the kitchen, Bob sets it on the table and opens it up.

"Thanks," Ray says, and takes out some packaged gauze, opening it before dipping it into the bowl of water Bob sets in front of him. Gently, Ray starts to clean Mikey's wrists of blood, dabbing at the scabs that have been torn open by Gerard's hands. "I know you've been through a lot this last year, but...."

"Do you know what these are off?" Mikey interrupts. "They used wire rope, wrapped it around and then tied it off. I've matching cuts on my ankles."

Momentarily, Ray looses his stern expression, but only for an instant. "I'm sorry you went through that, and you've every right to be angry. But don’t you think you're directing your anger at the wrong person? Gerard doesn't deserve it."

“He was supposed to come and find me.”

"It isn’t that easy." Actions gentle as opposed to his words, Ray cradles Mikey's wrist and sprays antiseptic over the deep cuts. "Do you know where Gerard was most of the last year? He was in the club. He couldn't go home, just had to stay there in a ruined building with the rotting bodies of our audience. You know Gerard, better than anyone. How do you think that affected him? Stuck there with that and the memories of us being taken away. Have you even seen his neck?"

"Yes I’ve seen it, but what am I supposed to do? Be happy that he sat around in a funk for a year? That while I was sold on to be a sex slave and tied to a bed with my legs spread he was eating protein spheres and drinking his way through the club’s alcohol supplies. So don’t tell it isn't that easy.”

“Okay, I won’t.” Ray takes Mikey’s other hand and examines his wrist. “But don’t shut him out.”

Blowing on his free wrist, Mikey doesn’t look up as he says, ““It’s Gerard. I couldn’t keep him out if I tried.”

~~~~

The rest of the day is filled with more games and uncomfortable silences. Bob spends a lot of time up front, sitting alone and watching the stars, trying to work out what he can do to make things better. He's got no ideas, though, and when he does go back to the others he makes a quick meal before heading off to sleep, hoping that tomorrow things will be better.

Hours later he wakes to a strangled shout. Opening his eyes he looks down and sees that Mikey is caught in the aftermaths of another nightmare, bundled in his blanket as Frank rubs his back. Frank's also groping one-handed for the data pad Pete sent and he flicks it on, blinking rapidly as he tries to focus on the words.

Aware that Gerard is awake, Bob isn't surprised when he sees him slide out of his own bunk to sit on the edge of Mikey and Frank's.

"I've got him," Gerard says. "You go get some sleep."

Frank looks like he's going to protest, as Mikey's leaning forward, struggling to even breathe, but with a last pat to Mikey's back, he slips out of the bunk and allows Gerard to take his place. Frank stands still then, looking lost and Bob reaches down, touching his shoulder. He jumps in response, but when Bob beckons, climbs up and sits next to him, knees up and arms wrapped around his legs, the data pad held tightly in his hands.

"Get under the cover, you're cold," Bob says, and tugs at the blanket until Frank's got some cover.

"Thanks," Frank says, and remains still, keeping watch.

"Mikey, it's only me."

Gerard's voice is low, but they're so close that Bob can hear every word, which is good, because Bob needs to fix his crew. Maybe this way he’ll hear something that can help.

"Mikey, I'm sorry." Gerard's hand is on Mikey's back and he's rubbing in circles. "I would have found you earlier, but I was a mess, all alone in the club. I tried calling you back. I thought, if you heard--"

"I thought you were dead," Mikey says, his voice muffled against the blanket. "They kept shooting and you weren't there, and then they took me and Frank away and I still expected you to come get me." His tone is nothing but bitterness, but fear that has to be processed as something else. "How stupid is that?"

"It's not stupid," Gerard says fiercely, "it's holding onto hope. There's nothing wrong with that."

"There's everything wrong with that." Mikey sits up then, turns so he can see Gerard. "It was what kept me going. I'd hope that maybe today you'd come get me. Maybe today I'd be left alone. Maybe today I'd be given to someone that wouldn't hurt me. Maybe today I'd die. But you never did, and they never did, and I never did. I woke up every fucking morning and had to do it again. That's what hope got me."

"Oh god, Mikey. I’m sorry. I never…” Gerard sounds stricken and he pulls Mikey into a hug, holding on tight. “I thought… I didn’t know exactly. I’m so sorry.”

Mikey continues, as if Gerard hasn’t spoken at all. " Hope got me nowhere. I didn't want hope. I wanted to lie down and die and I couldn't because each time I tried I'd remember you and your fucking messages. They hurt me, over and over again and all I wanted was you. For you to come. But you didn't. You…didn't." Mikey sounds lost, younger even, than he is.

"I'm sorry," Gerard's voice twists, anguish warping it. "I’m so sorry."

"That's the thing," Mikey says tiredly. "I knew you’d come if you could. That you'd be there, which meant you had to be dead. And I hated you for that. For being dead and still sticking around and telling me to hang on. I still hate you a little now, and I can't stop that. Not yet. And I hate myself for that, because-- Because I love you. And I missed you, and-- God, I'm a mess."

Gerard wraps his arm around Mikey's shoulders, pulling him in close. "That's okay. You can hate me, as long as I know why."

"You don't know half of it," Mikey says, but he allows himself to be held and curls his fingers around Gerard's when he reaches for his hand. "I have nightmares. If Frank's not there I can't sleep and I know it's killing him, because he hates to be still. After… They hurt him too, Gee." This is whispered even more quietly than the rest of the conversation has been. "Held him in that collar so he hardly had room to move. But he does it for me and if I were any kind of friend I'd tell him to go, but I can't. I just… I can't sleep without him; he keeps them away. They can't touch me if he's here."

Frank stills then, breathing harshly as if he's fighting panic and Bob reaches for him, trying to give comfort as Gerard rests his head against Mikey's.

"How about I stay here tonight? Let Frank have some space."

Mikey looks up then, and the bond between him and Frank is obvious, their own melody fractured but still strong and Bob can see Mikey's scared, but Gerard keeps holding on until eventually Mikey says, "I think, yeah."

Expecting Frank to relax, Bob's surprised when he tenses even more and his beat is frantic as he looks at Bob and says desperately, "I need out of here. I need space."

The problem with the Love and Death is that it's small. But there is one place they can go, and Bob slides out of his bunk, pulling Frank with him.

"Frank?" Mikey starts to move, but Frank shakes his head, trying to control his panicked breathing.

"I'm okay. Promise."

He looks far from okay, shaking so hard it seems as though he's on the verge of flying apart. Bob takes hold of his elbow and steers him forward, to the door that leads to the hold. It's almost empty right now, only a few small crates, most brought from Pete's, the instruments carefully packed and attached to the floor, which is perfect for Frank's needs. He sits on the floor, head in his hands, Bob standing close, because despite the melody that shows Frank is part of his crew, Bob doesn't know him, and he's on the verge of going for Ray, for anyone, when Frank looks up.

"Sorry. It's just. Mikey was talking about me being held and the memories-- I've spent so long trapped, and I don't mind, I don't-- Mikey needs me so I stay still and it hurts. I need to move and I can't."

Frank's still shaking, his teeth chattering and Bob has a sudden memory of one of the things Gerard first told him, a show and drums flying apart, and he knows what to do. He goes to a control panel, makes sure the door is sealed tight, and then inputs the sequence so the hold loses all gravity. Immediately, he pushes himself float upwards, and holds up his arms, bracing his hands against the ceiling. When Frank realises what he's done he does the same, and looks over at Bob.

"You turned off the gravity?"

"I figured it's a good way to be free."

Bob thinks Frank doesn't get it at first, but then he pushes off from the ceiling, somersaulting in space. He hits the ground upside down and pushes off again, spinning wildly and with each leap, each roll his shaking eases. He's serious at first, attacking each jump with fierce determination, but then he laughs when he leap-frogs over Bob's head and then grabs hold, making them both spin. He runs circuits of the hold, feet pushing off against the walls ceiling and floor.

Bob joins in the impromptu race, flipping over the top of the floating crates and grabbing Frank's foot and pulling him in a wild circle. He lets go and Frank crashes into a wall, and keeps laughing when he pops back up and hits Bob in the stomach with his head, propelling them both across the room.

Eventually, when Frank's finished running, he floats in mid air, arms out as he slowly moves his hands so he spins in gentle circles. He looks at Bob and says, "thank you."

And Bob knows this is something they'll do again. As many times as Frank needs.

~~~~

Bob has always known that healing was an interminably slow process. At least, that feels like knowledge he's had forever. Too long now, for certain.

Mikey still has nightmares and Frank still needs his space, even after a week on the craft, after two. But at least they're beginning to talk, they all are, and sometimes Bob wonders how a group so damaged will ever function again.

But there are late night conversations that leave them all wrung out and hurting, and when it seems they're all taking turns to fall apart, Bob's there. He learns to make coffee for Mikey when he can't sleep and can't bear having anyone touch him. He reads Pete's sub-channels to Ray when his hands are in agony with past aches and present healing pains. He spends time in the hold with Frank, creating their own games, and, of course, hours with Gerard, just sitting close and listening as he talks, becoming closer all the while.

Bob gives his time willingly, and as the days pass, his love. Because these people are his crew, in heart as well as name. The problem is, Bob can't be certain of how they feel in return, and has no idea how to ask. He monitors their rhythms, and although they shift while on the craft, it's hard to know if that is simply from the new safety afforded them, or due his added presence.

"Pete's posted a new sub-channel." Frank holds up the data pad and begins to read. "Missing you days get dark and nights long winter in summer and eyes to the sky ever hoping." He flicks off the page and says simply, "I think it's time we went back."

Bob agrees. Pete knows Mikey and Frank are safe, but nothing more, and he knows they all need to talk. The problem is, as Bob stands and makes his way to the conn, all he can feel is this is the first step of splitting his new crew apart, of separating them before they even knew they were his.

~~~~

It's Patrick who meets them at Vanatrous. He's leaning against the yellow vehicle, his hat pulled low, and when he sees Mikey and Frank he scowls.

"Patrick, hi," Frank says quietly. "It's good to see you again."

"Yeah," Patrick says. He pushes his glasses back up his nose and it's obvious that there's something he wants to say, but he's biting back the words.

"Where's Pete?" Mikey asks, looking around as if Pete could be hiding somewhere.

"He's back at the house, you know, in case he waited here and you decided to go off and get captured again."

"We hardly let ourselves be captured," Frank says hotly. "We kicked trafficker ass."

"Until you got caught." Dust swirls around Patrick's feet as he kicks at the ground, his voice rising. "What the hell were you thinking? You don't go wandering off with strange captains, or go on a two-man slave freeing campaign, or sneak off without saying goodbye. Do you even know what that did to Pete? He stood by you at your worst and then you left. I should kick your asses right now."

"If it would help." Frank hitches up his pants, again, and steps forward, holding out his hands. "Take your best shot."

"Morons, I swear." Patrick rolls his eyes and then his anger seems to deflate as he pulls Frank into a quick hug. "You're so skinny I'd probably break you in two, and as for you." He points at Mikey. "You look like a good breeze would blow you over."

"He's right." Gerard clicks his tongue as he stares at Mikey. "I'll have to fatten you two up."

"More pancakes,” Mikey says hopefully.

“As many as you can eat,” Gerard replies.

"You're a culinary genius," Mikey says seriously. He looks back, checking on them all before climbing into the vehicle, taking a seat with Gerard. It takes all of a second before Frank's throwing himself inside too, Ray following more sedately, but still managing to squash himself into the same seat as the other three.

Which leaves Bob with Patrick, who's watching them all and while he's not smiling, Bob can sense how relieved he is to have them back. "I'd say life's going to get a lot less quiet, but it's not like we're quiet anyway, so."

While Patrick hasn't said the actual words, Bob knows what he means, and he knows his fears are beginning to come true. "You're going to ask them to stay?"

"Pete won't lose them again," Patrick says. He climbs inside, taking a seat opposite the others. Bob does too.

~~~~

The journey to Pete's house is quiet. The walls are clear but no one's looking outside. Instead they're caught in their own thoughts and when the vehicle pulls to halt it's only Patrick who makes a move. He opens the door and jumps outside, then looks back in.

"Come on."

Bob stands then, and this is the third time he's arrived at Pete's house, but it's the first time Pete himself isn't there; just the closed front door and an uncomfortable silence. Except, when Bob steps outside he sees a face at one of the downstairs windows, and he knows Pete's watching, waiting. Bob steps to one side and listens as the harmony between Mikey, Frank and Pete grows, strengthening as if the song is almost complete.

"Pete?"

Frank's out of the vehicle now, Mikey too, and they're both looking at the house, waiting.
The front door is flung open and Pete appears. He's running at first, but he slows, hesitant to touch. Frank breaches the distance, pulling Pete into a hug, then reaching back and pulling Mikey in too, all three saying nothing as they hold on.

"Do you think I should threaten to kick his ass?" Bob turns to look at Gerard, who's watching the hug with a smile. "Because it seems like the brotherly thing to do."

"You're okay with this?"

Gerard considers. "It's not going to be easy, but I think Pete knows that. He was there for them when they needed it. I can't see that changing."

Which is something Bob agrees with, and something that technically helps when he thinks of how his new crew is splitting apart and how he suspects he’s lost them already. Frank and Mikey with Pete, Ray talking to Patrick, and Gerard, who's standing close to Bob, his arm around his waist, there for now. But Bob knows he'll leave too. It's inevitable, because no matter how Gerard feels, the friendship and love he has for Bob, Gerard will always stay with his brother and best friends.

Which means that Bob should leave. It'll be easier that way, before his attachment gets too strong--except for the part where he knows it already has.

~~~~

After hours of catch-up, Andy handing out fake steaks and Gerard cooking his pancakes and presenting it to Mikey with a flourish, they all end up sleeping in the same room. Except, Bob can’t sleep at all, and after hours lying staring at the ceiling he sits up and looks around.

Mikey and Frank are in the same bed, curled around one another, a data pad lying on the floor nearby. Gerard and Ray are in the other, the blanket pulled up to their ears so all Bob can see is a shock of dark hair next to wild red.

This close Bob can easily feel them all -- friendship and love, trust and respect – it’s all there, things that Bob thought he’d lost so long before.

"Bob?" There’s a rustle of sound and Gerard sits up in bed. His hair’s sticking up in all directions, and he looks at Bob through eyes that are more closed than open. "What are you doing?"

"Just thinking," Bob says, and when Gerard climbs out of his own bed, Bob simply holds up the blanket of his own.

"It’s the middle of the night," Gerard says through a yawn, and he rests heavily against Bob’s side.

"I couldn’t sleep."

"I told you not to eat that red stuff, it moved."

"It’s not that, and anyway, it tasted good." Refusing to get into yet another discussion of the merits of slava sludge, Bob tugs at the blanket so Gerard’s covered more.

"So what’s wrong?"

"Nothing."

"That’s not what your beat is saying. You sound conflicted, like one of those songs with twisted tempos that think they’re clever but end up just sounding wrong."

Bob looks at Gerard. "Does that even make sense in your head?"

"It does," Gerard says. "But stop stalling. Something’s got you twisted in knots."

Bob thinks about side-stepping the issue again, but Gerard’s looking at him, patiently waiting, and Bob knows he needs to say how he feels. "It’s the whole Pete thing; he wants us to stay here. Well, he wants Mikey and Frank to stay," Bob amends. "Which is good because they need some stability and time to heal. Same for you and Ray."

"I agree," Gerard says, "But while we’re here, where will you be?"

"In the Love and Death," Bob says, hoping Gerard understands. "I’m not made to live on solid ground, Gerard. I’m meant for deep space, me and my craft skimming the ribbons of sound."

"And what if we want to do that, too?" Gerard pulls away from Bob and indicates the other beds with his hand. "Don’t you think we deserve the chance?"

"But Mikey and Frank…"

"Are awake and wanting to know how Gee hooked up with such a moron," Frank says. He sits up in bed and looks over at Bob. "Of course we’re sticking together. You really thought we’d stay behind?"

"I thought you’d want to stay with Pete."

Mikey sits up too. "Well you thought wrong. There’s a big universe out there and it’ll be nice to see it." He hesitates then and looks at Frank. "In-between freeing slaves anyway."

"Oh, hell no!" Gerard points at Mikey. "No more rescues for you. You’re going to stay here, or in the Love and Death and one of us will always be with you. No more rescues or blowing shit up or nearly getting yourself killed."

"You know that’s not going to happen," Mikey says. "I love you, but no. There’s too many people out there that need our help."

"He’s right," Frank says. "But, no more risks. We can work alongside Pete’s operation, we’ll be a fantastic team, and that means all five of us, Bryar."

Gerard’s silent for a while, then he says, "I guess I can work with that. As long as we’re together."

"Like we’d be anywhere else," Mikey says.

"For the record, I’m sticking with you all, too." Ray sits up then, a shadow in the darkness. "But now that the tender moment is over, will you all shut up?! I’m trying to sleep."

"And yet," Frank says, throwing a pillow at Ray’s head. "You’re the one making the most noise."
Immediately Ray throws it back, and Frank scrambles out of the covers so he catch and return it in the same move. "I am the pillow fight master!"

"In your dreams." Ray jumps completely out of bed then, a pillow held in both hands as he dives onto Mikey and Frank. They all go down in a flurry of arms and legs, pillows being thumped against the nearest body part, and all Bob can hear is Frank’s giggles and Mikey’s laughter and Ray’s triumphant cry as he manages to hit them both in the face.

"Hey! No hitting my brother!"

Gerard jumps out of bed then, taking Bob’s pillow with him. Launching himself into the fight, he’s soon laughing when all three turn on him, hitting him repeatedly with their pillows.

Amused, Bob watches, until finally, when Gerard’s half off the bed, his head on the floor and his legs trapped under Frank’s body, Bob gets up too.

Snatching up a stray pillow he holds it above his head and readies himself to do battle.

With his friends. His family. His crew.

Master Post

Comments

[turps33.livejournal.com]

First off. Thank you so much for such a fantastic comment. I'll admit, I was grinning like an idiot as I read.

When I was writing this I was a little unsure of my world building. It's the longest story I've written by far, and the sci-fi elements kept tripping me up. I'd write something or describe the things I was seeing in my head, and then would worry that it sounded insane. So knowing it worked is such a relief.

The shatter planet scene is one of my favourites, it's also key to the whole story in many ways. Bob's finally saying goodbye to his old crew and while he's going on to have a good life with his new crew, he'll never forget those from before. They're far too important to him. So I'm thrilled that came across.

I'm with you. I would have liked a scene where Bob was taken care of by the others, but you're right. He gets things done and any emotional breakdown would be pointless. Still, by the end he knows he's surrounded by people who love him, and that means so much.

Pete pushed his way into this story. When I first planned it out he was this character in a bar that sold information, and he's become so much more. Pete and his band of vigilantes, he worries about them all, even if Ryan drives him mad *g*

Thank you for sharing!

Thank you.