Than didn’t move.
He sat with his spine straight, hands clenched together so hard his fingers ached, eyes burning as he stared ahead. The room registered the shift in him, the moment the quiet, unbreakable one cracked just enough to let the truth show.
Something essential in him had been severed, and everyone could feel it.
Fly stood nearby, still and solid, his presence a steady line drawn through the chaos. Than didn’t look at him. He couldn’t. Not yet. He didn’t want to see the leader holding it all at bay, or the friend he loved like a brother. One would contain the fracture. The other would reveal the cost. Than wasn’t ready for either.
For a heartbeat, hate surged, hot, sharp, undeniable.
This is your fault. You killed Mei, and you stand there like being a strong leader is enough.
The thought horrified him the instant it formed. Guilt slammed in after it, swift and absolute, smothering the ache in his chest. It filled him up, pressed down, sliding over the grief like a new layer laid atop the old, heavy, deliberate, inescapable. As if her death were already building something inside him, emotion stacked on emotion, each one harder to carry than the last.
He crushed the thought into silence, forced it down as though it had never existed. He loved Fly. Fly wasn’t to blame.
The officer said something else. Logistics. Next steps. Words that belonged to a world that still made sense.
Than held himself perfectly still and let them wash over him, even as something inside him bled quietly out of reach.
Than heard none of it. All he could hear was the echo of her voice, warm and sure, saying she loved him, and the absolute, irreversible silence that followed.
Until it was broken by the door opening. Joss rose, the blanket falling from his shoulders. “Mom,” he whispered, immediately seeking the shelter of her arms. His dad rubbed his back, and they ushered him out. He and Mei had bonded over sudoku. Mei treated him like a little brother.
Moments later, Bridge’s parents came in. She met them, hugging them both, nodding and brushing at her cheeks at her parents’ comfort. She and Mei were fierce competitors but joined forces in posting photos on Instagram about midshipmen girl power.
Suddenly, he didn’t want to see his brother, Bailee, his mom, or Chay. He didn’t want to talk about Mei…he couldn’t. But when the inevitable moment came and his big brother’s broad shoulders filled the doorway, something fundamentally rooted tightened. He rose as Bear moved toward him in his steady, powerful cadence.
“Little brother,” he said, pulling him into his arms. “We’re here.”
Than rested against him, the soft touch of Bailee’s hand on his arm soothing for half a second. His mom waited, her face filled with sympathy and relief. Chay squeezed his shoulder. When Bear let him go, his mom pulled him into her arms, and like a small child, like Joss, he went with no shame.
Bear’s phone rang, and he looked at the screen. “It’s Ayla, Than.”
Than nodded. He took the phone. “Hey.”
“Than,” Ayla said, her voice soft but steady, a lifeline across the distance. "I know what you're feeling, but you don't carry this alone. We are with you, just as Mei walks with you still.” There was noise in the background. It was clear Ayla took the time to call him in the midst of her job. "I’m sorry I can’t be there. I’m deployed, but I love you. Let that fill you until I can hold you in my arms. Bye, my little brother.”
It was all he could do to keep himself in check. His sister’s words, like Bailee’s touch, Bear’s embrace, his mother and Chay’s comfort, settled in the place he always held for them, a fraction of the heat he once felt, the cold of Mei’s absence like frost in his veins. He handed the phone back to Bear as M&M and Clint walked in.
Fly was in conversation with the commandant. M&M, with Clint trailing, just simply walked up to Than and slipped her arms around him. “There’s a good lad.” She held him for a second, and Clint set his hand on his shoulder and squeezed, his eyes warm and kind.
The commandant came over to offer his condolences.
Fly went into M&M’s arms, clasping her hard to his chest, Clint surrounding them both with bands of steel. “We’re gutted. She was such a sweet, sweet girl. I’m so proud of you for how you’ve handled everything.” Fly released her. “They tell me you have to account for yourself at an inquisition.” She took his hands. “We’ll be here when that happens.”
“The ranch,” he said, his chest heavy with the memory of Mei.
“Old Tex is going to handle it for us. He’s as competent as hell. No need to worry.”
“Yeah, he’s a good mate,” Fly said. He glanced over at Than and could see that even his family wasn’t breaking through that cold wall he’d erected.
“Excuse me for one moment,” he said. Fly caught Bear’s eye and gestured with a sharp tilt of his chin toward the corner of the room. They needed a moment away from the noise, away from the comforting hands that couldn't fix what was broken. Bear didn't hesitate, disengaging from the group with that silent, grounded grace he always carried.
They found a quiet spot away from the flow of traffic. Fly turned to him, dropping the formal posture he’d been holding like a shield all day. Bear clasped his shoulder, already knowing what Mei meant to them. They had visited often enough to know who she was.
“Than…he needs…” Fly said, his voice low, intense. “It’s not just grief. It’s...it’s heart deep.”
He looked toward Than, feeling the phantom weight of his loss.
