"That I want this every night." His voice rumbled through his chest. "Want to fall asleep with you in my arms. Wake up with your chaos invading my carefully organized space. Listen to you explain circuit theory at 0600 hours while I'm still trying to achieve consciousness."
"That sounds terrible."
"It sounds perfect." He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. "You're the best kind of terrible."
I laughed, the sound muffled against his chest. "What about your quarters? All your tactical equipment?"
"Can be moved. Or we find larger quarters that accommodate both your projects and my equipment." His hand found mine, fingers intertwining. "I don't care about logistics as long as you're there."
"Dana's going to have opinions about this. Jalina will want to redesign our shared quarters for optimal functionality. Bea will probably schedule couples therapy sessions?—"
"And we'll handle all of it together." He tilted my face up, those cobalt eyes holding mine. "Because that's what partners do. We face complications and logistics and well-meaning friends together."
Partners. The word settled into my chest, warm and terrifying and absolutely right.
"Okay," I said. "Partners. Together. Figuring out the impossible one disaster at a time."
"Starting tomorrow." He pulled the blanket over us both. "Tonight, we just sleep. Just exist together. Just be."
I curled against him, feeling his body relax around mine, his breathing evening out as exhaustion caught up with us both. For the first time in eight months, I didn't dream about wormholes or burning ships or everyone I couldn't save.
I dreamed about electrical systems and tactical assessments and a future where chaos and control learned to coexist. Where disasters became something you faced together instead of alone.
Where home wasn't a planet or a ship but the steady heartbeat beneath my ear and the arms that held me through the dark.
When I woke, pale light filtered through the viewport—Mothership's artificial dawn marking a new cycle. Vaxon was already awake, watching me with an expression that made my heart stutter.
"Good morning," he said.
"Morning." I stretched carefully, wincing slightly at muscles that weren't accustomed to last night's activities. "You're staring."
"I'm memorizing." His hand traced my face. "In case this is a dream and I wake up alone in medical again."
"Not a dream." I pressed my palm over his heart. "Real. This is real."
"Good." He pulled me closer, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "Because I have no intention of letting you leave."
"I have to work eventually. The weapons systems need?—"
"The weapons systems can wait." His arms tightened around me. "Right now, you're exactly where you need to be."
I wanted to argue. Wanted to point out the maintenance schedules and diagnostic reports waiting for my attention. But lying here in Vaxon's arms, feeling safer than I'd felt in months, the work could wait.
Everything could wait.
For now, I was just Elena. Not an engineer or a survivor or someone punishing herself for living. Just a woman choosing to believe in something good. Choosing to trust that maybe, impossibly, this could work.
Choosing to live instead of just survive.
And that felt like the most revolutionary thing I'd ever done.
Chapter
Eleven
Vaxon
Two months after Elena had stayed the night in my quarters, two months of learning each other's rhythms, navigating shared space, figuring out how chaos and control could coexist, I woke to find her gone.
