“What changed between them?”
"They loved each other. They only had a week, that’s all the time they were given. Now he’s staring at a future he didn't choose, one where she doesn't exist." Fly shifted his weight, his jaw tight “I’m watching my brother fall apart, and I don’t know how to help him.” He looked back at Bear, his gaze steady and unyielding. "He needs professional help. Not just time. Not just us. I can stand with him, and I can carry the watch, but this...this is deeper than command. It’s deeper than brotherhood. We need to get him someone who knows how to treat this kind of wound. It’s the right thing to do."
Later, after he got M&M and Clint settled in a hotel, he went back to his dorm. Than was already asleep, or pretended to be. Fly sat on his bed, and the weight of everything came down on him so fast it stole his breath.
He might have saved himself and the crew. That mattered. He wouldn’t downplay it. But he’d failed Mei. He’d lost her. She was gone, and the only fact that wouldn’t loosen its grip was that he had waited too long to tell Hollis to go to fuck off and head for shore.
He remembered every warning. Every shift. Every moment when instinct had spoken before certainty caught up. He hadn’t felt vindicated for a second. He had spent four years obeying orders, training himself to wait for permission. Mei had paid the price for that blind spot, and he would carry it for the rest of his life.
His phone buzzed.
MJ: Everyone’s totally messed up over Mei. Do you need some comfort?
Fly stared at the screen. The hollowness inside him couldn’t be filled with mindless sex. She would be a body. Nothing more. After what Than and Mei had shared, that emptiness felt obscene. He typed back. No. Thank you, though.
He set the phone down. A knock came almost immediately. MJ didn’t like taking no for an answer. Fly opened the door, his jaw set to gently rebuff MJ, but the words died in his throat.
It wasn't her. It was Joker.
The sight of the man hit him harder than the rogue wave had. Joker. Bear’s LT. The man who had been instrumental in shaping him before the academy. The man who had taught him that leadership wasn't about being the loudest in the room, but the steadiest.
A sharp burn stung the back of Fly’s eyes. He swallowed hard. Gratitude surged with something darker underneath. Joker seeing him like this, raw and fraying, felt like failure.
He tried to speak.
Joker didn’t let him.
The older officer stepped inside, closed the door softly, and reached up. His hand was warm and calloused as it closed around the back of Fly’s neck, firm and grounding.
“I’m here, kid,” Joker said. “For you. Let’s talk.”
Fly nodded, trusting nothing about his voice. He glanced at Than’s bed. Than hadn’t moved. Fly didn’t want to risk breaking the fragile quiet holding him together.
Joker read it instantly. He tightened his grip and guided Fly down the hall, his arm settling around Fly’s shoulders. It felt less like escort and more like a lifeline.
The common room was empty, lit only by the glow of a vending machine. Joker dropped onto the couch and pulled Fly down beside him.
"How are you doing, Flynn?" Joker asked, his voice low and devoid of the usual military brusqueness.
Fly let out a shaky breath, staring at the floor. "I'm...holding it together."
Joker snorted softly. “No one ever checks the guy in charge. They think rank makes you bleed less. We both know that’s bullshit.”
The words spilled out before Fly could stop them. “You warned me. You said leadership would shape me in the best and worst ways.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair. “I didn’t understand then. I do now.”
Joker studied him for a long moment. “I talked to Andrew Hollis. I saw the footage Harvard took.”
Fly’s stomach dropped. “It’s on film.”
Joker nodded, pulling out his phone, handing it to Fly.
Fly took the phone, his hand trembling slightly, and pressed play.
The storm filled the screen. Gray water, chaotic swells, the boat pitching hard enough to blur the horizon. He watched himself move through it, decisions clean, timing exact. No hesitation. No wasted motion. He recognized the turn he’d made at the critical second, the brutal angle that kept them from being broadsided. The wave broke over the bow, a wall of water washing the deck, and then the safety line snapped.
Mei went over.
Fly lowered the phone before the footage ended.
