Archive of Our Own ^beta

and in the darkroom, where the whole assembly started
all the clotheslines where the hearts hung to harden
you come as fragile, soft machines
and you’re bound to fast, you’re bound to grieve
but you’re built to balance on two feet
so why you living this past year from your knees?

-dessa, “the crow”

--

Rex was never very good at keeping his head down. And he did try. 

After Vace broke his arm, Adamant sat with him and did his physical therapy exercises with him, even when he screamed and cried and swore. 

“You need to do these, baby,” she said to him, “or you'll lose motion. Come on, one more time.”

Addie was his mother, not that he ever called her Mom. She was always Addie, calm and measured, talking to him like he was a small grown up rather than a baby.

When he's older, it occurs to him that Addie probably didn't want to be anyone's mom. But the Heliopause needs soldiers, and somewhere along the line someone talked her into trying to raise one. 

Maybe Rex's father had. He's dead before Rex is old enough to remember him very well, an accident in Engineering that kills him and two others. Addie doesn’t talk about him very much, and he gets the feeling that theirs was not a very happy marriage.

Adamant is a good mother all the same, or she tries. “Sometimes people hurt you because they want to feel big,” her hands guide him through another exercise, “it's nothing you did, Basorexia. You were just there.”

Rex says nothing, gaze sliding sideways. Addie catches his chin and pulls his face up so they're eye to eye. “Violence is a tool,” she says, “it need not be yours.”

And it’s not. Rex does the same training as every other kid on the Heliopause, but he’s just going through the motions. He’s good at it, he’d make a good solider, but his heart’s not in it. 

His heart is on the ratty little couch in the juvenile barracks, curled up with Nomi-Nomi, watching holovids and dreaming. Nomi likes the colourful ones with lots of costume changes and singing and dancing and fighting against evil, which aren’t his favourites but Nomi loves them, so of course he’ll watch them. 

Rex’s favourites are the sitcoms. Some of them are about normal people on Earth, and some of them are more fantastical, but they’re a tantalising glimpse of a world he has been denied. School – not the boring school onboard, but with lots of other kids and school dances and sports - and cinemas and bars and houses and people having relationships and jobs and hobbies. 

The Heliopause is a military ship. Anything that doesn’t serve that purpose is a waste of time, a waste of space. He and Nomi need to grow up.

But still Rex stays up late, watching children on a planet he’ll never see do things he’ll never be able to do, and he dreams regardless.

–

Rex wakes up in Marz’s bed, a glass of water on the nightstand in easy reach. He knocks half of it back, stands up and stretches, and goes looking for his pants. 

Marz sticks her head into the room, raising her eyebrows. She’s already dressed except for her shoes, a glamorous and competent vision in blue. “Goooooood morning,” he says cheerfully, “where did my pants go this time?”

“You’re standing on them,” Marz replies, an amused look on her face. He finds himself in Marz’s bed on and off – now seems to be an “on” period, but eventually she’ll get busy with governing the colony or find someone new to show off at events, and this won’t happen for a while. 

Marz is very attentive and has immaculate taste in gifts, but he suspects the full force of her attentions would get to be a bit much, after a while. All the same, she’s a hard worker, and a very good friend. It’s nice to be able to blow off steam together, knowing everyone involved understands it’s nothing serious.

Rex sweeps her an exaggerated bow, then whisks his pants off the floor. “I’ll let you get on with your morning,” he wanders forward to wind an arm around her waist and kiss her on the cheek, “I’ll see you when I next see you.”

Marz leans into the embrace, slurping her tea. “Of course,” she smiles, “now get out of my house.”

He finishes dressing, polishes off the glass of water, and gives Marz a lazy salute before he heads out into the morning heat of Dust. 

It’s been a year and a half since peace was brokered with the Gardeners, and people are just starting to actually believe it. The Garrison is still staffed, but Rex has heard rumours about downsizing, and deploying most of the soldiers elsewhere.

One such soldier is sitting in the grass, drinking something out of a thermos. Anemone is in exercise gear, sweaty and pink in the face and drinking out of a canteen.

“Busy morning?” he grins, sitting down next to her. 

Anemone sighs, stretching out her legs. “Training. I promised Solace I’d go out with them later, but I’m seriously considering bailing.”

“What, outside the walls?” Rex double-takes, resting his forearms on his knees.

“Mm,” Anemone nods, “we’re talking about dismantling the walls. Solace doesn’t want to just… do it, though, they want to build a case, get people onside. You know what they’re like.”

Rex chews his lip, looking out at the colony. “I can see what they’re getting at. Not everyone was exactly happy about making nice with the Gardeners, or the…lack of transparency around that. So you’re part of that?”

“If I’m on board, as one of the people who hated all of it – all of them, for good reasons…” Anemone trails off, taking another swig from her water bottle.

That sounds like Solace. Solace, dark eyes calculating, walking the tightrope all of their teens. Sol is a hero, and the image of them straight-backed and furious, facing down an alien army with their hands empty, will stick with him for a long time. 

It was like he didn’t know them, or like all the signs had been in front of him and he’d somehow missed that Sol loved this place enough to make a stupid, stupid last stand for the future. 

“That’s very political of them,” Rex scratches the back of his head, “how do you feel about it?”

Anemone blows her fringe out of her eyes. “I’ve agreed to go, and make up my own mind. I can’t see what Sol and Cal see, but this is important to them.”

He’s heard that Anemone, Solace, and Cal were very close as children. They drifted apart after the Heliopause arrived – changed by the rift that pushed Anemone towards the military, Cal towards Geoponics, and Sol to both those places and everywhere else besides. 

“That’s generous of you,” he replies, clambering to his feet, “I hope you have a nice time.”

Anemone smiles up at him tiredly. “I’ll go with an open mind.”

–

When he arrives at the bar, Nomi is already sitting at one of the tables, head bowed as they work. It turns out, the freedom to do art in a world without a war suits them well. 

Nomi looks up at him and smiles. Nomi is his best friend, his number one, his partner for life. He’s given up on explaining it to anyone else – he used to say they’re like a sibling, because it seemed easier for people to understand. These days, he doesn’t care if they don’t understand.

“Hey-o, Nome de plume,” he grins, sitting down next to them and slinging an arm around their shoulders, “hard at work?”

Sighing, Nomi makes a show of keeling over sideways in a faint. “I’m stuck,” they complain, “I’ve been trying to figure out how to fix this all morning.”

“Consider putting it down and coming back to it,” Rex suggests, one hand moving up to hold their legs in place so they don’t slither off the booth, “I need to order more booze, wanna help me go through my stock and figure out what we need more of?”

Nomi brightens immediately. “I’d love to!”

They’re halfway through the stocktake when someone coughs in the doorway. Rex looks up to see Cal lingering in the doorframe, face brightening when he sees the two of them behind the bar.

“Oh good,” he says, “you’re both here.”

Nomi hops up onto the bar, legs swinging. “You were looking for both of us?”

“Sure are,” Rex grins at him toothily, then pauses when he notices Cal absently twisting the hem of his shirt between his fingers – a nervous habit, and a dead giveaway something is on his mind, “what’s up, big guy?”

Cal starts, hands falling to his sides. “Ah, I booked a nanoprinter slot for next week, when I know Sol is off shift. I’m getting a ring printed.”

“Wah! You’re going to get married! ” Nomi squeaks, hurling themselves off the bar and into Cal’s arms. He scrambles to catch them, swinging them around and carefully setting them on their feet.

Rex grins sharkily at him. “So we can expect a proposal…halfway through next year?”

“Hey,” Cal says mildly, “true, but uncalled for. I was thinking during Glow, or their birthday.”

Nomi bounces on the balls of their feet gleefully, hands clasped together. “A commitment ceremony! I love commitment ceremonies!”

“I mean,” Cal shrugs, “Sol might not want to make a big deal of it…?”

Rex snorts. “Perhaps, but Marz loves an excuse for a party, so she’ll throw one.”

Cal shrugs evenly, clapping Nomi on the shoulder. “We’ll definitely do something, it just might be private. Anyway, I’m beat, I’m gonna try get a nap in before Solace gets back. I started at six this morning.”

“Ew,” Rex makes a sympathetic noise, “I won’t keep you from your bed.”

“And I won’t keep you from your very important…” Cal looks over the bar, “inventory? Experimentation?”

Nomi picks up a bottle and inspects the contents. “Inventory! Rex, you need more of…this one?”

“You got it,” Rex grins at them, then turns back to Cal, “see ya.”

Later that evening, Rex is in the middle of serving someone when Sol and Anemone both appear at the bar. Anemone looks a little grim, although this is offset by the presence of a vivid white flower tucked into the end of her braid, and Sol looks exhausted.

“We’re going to need something strong,” Sol requests when he turns to them, “long day.”

Anemone gives Sol a slightly exhausted smile. “It wasn’t all bad. But I don’t think I’ll ever feel fully safe out there,” she sighs, while Rex busies himself mixing something up for Sol.

“You shouldn’t,” Sol says, to both of their surprise, “a wild animal is still a wild animal, and dangerous terrain is dangerous terrain. Not needing a wall isn’t the same as not needing to exercise caution.”

Rex slides Sol something pale green in a tall glass, and they catch it, raising their glass to him. He turns to Anemone, crooking an eyebrow. “I know what Sol likes, but what can I get you?”

Anemone looks thoughtful. “Something sweet, maybe? I normally drink with soldiers and they just drink beer all the time.”

“More fool them,” Rex grins, “never challenge Sol to a drinking competition, those cocktails they like can put you on the floor if you’re not careful.” 

He picks up a shaker and starts assembling ingredients, while Sol looks over their shoulder at the crowded bar for a moment, chewing their lip. “I gotta tell you guys something,” they smile, leaning in a little, “but you have to promise not to tell anyone.”

Anemone nods, and Rex grins at them. “Secret’s safe with ol’ Rex,” he winks, sliding a glass to Anemone. “Pan-Vertumnan Clipper,” he says cheerfully, “it’s sweet, but not too sweet, and it’s got a real kick.”

Sol digs in their pockets, then produces a small green box, opens it, and places it on the table. A silver ring sits upright in the box, engraved with a pattern of climbing vines.

Anemone chokes on her drink, coughing. “That’s your Dad’s –”

“Oh shit,” Rex leans on the table, “Flulu gave you Geranium’s…?”

Sol looks sheepish. “I’ve been hanging onto it for a year,” they mumble, “Cal and I had a talk about moving in together, and I told Flulu about it, and she told me Dad left me his wedding ring in his will, so…”

Rex notes that Geranium is “Dad”, but Fluorescent is “Flulu”, and elects not to comment. “That’s practically her blessing,” he says, “you thinking of proposing soon?”

There is a sheepish silence. “I was going to wait for the New Year,” Sol sighs, “but I don’t know if I can wait that long? I know I want to marry him, I know he’ll say yes because we’ve talked about it, I have the ring…”

“Galactic,” Anemone breathes, “I’m so happy for you. You know you've earned this, right?”

Sol winks, knocking back the last of their drink. “Very few people in this life get what they deserve,” they smile, fleeting and radiant, “if we only accept the love we think we've earned, none of us would get to be loved at all. Speaking of which, I have an early morning, so I’m going to wake up Cal and go get dinner, and have an early night.”

Rex grins at them, taking back the empty glass. “Try not to accidentally propose marriage.”

“Piss off,” Sol says amiably, getting out of their chair, “and go fuck yourself.”

“I love you too,” Rex replies, with a genial grin, “have a good night.”

“G’night, Sol,” Anemone gets out of her chair to hug them, looping her arms around their neck and standing on her tiptoes. It’s adorable – Sol obediently folds down to make themselves easier to reach, wrapping their arms around her waist and resting their cheek against Anemone’s riot of orange curls. 

Sol relinquishes Anemone, then reaches across to grab Rex by the back of the neck and plants a kiss on his forehead. “Remember you and Cal have one of your holoshow dates tomorrow,” they smile, “g’night.”

Anemone watches them leave, chewing her bottom lip. “This drink is good,” she says eventually, “what are you and Cal doing tomorrow?”

“We have a serial we’ve been watching together,” Rex grins, “Sol’s already seen it, so we make time to watch a few episodes every couple of weeks and shoot the shit.”

She tilts her head, fidgeting with her empty glass. “I don’t think I understand your relationship with them at all. It sometimes looks like you’re dating one or both of them.”

Rex shrugs, picking up a cocktail shaker. “People don’t have to get my relationships. They usually don’t. I don’t really get the whole monogamous marriage thing, and it’s not the right thing for a lot of people. I do what’s right for me, other people should do what’s right for them. Easy.”

“Vace wanted to get married,” Anemone says thoughtfully, “and like…he was talking about me retiring from active duty, and having children…”

Internally, Rex winces. “I got the impression that wasn’t something you wanted?”

There is a long silence. Anemone’s mouth twists. “I wanted to please him,” she sighs, “more than anything.”

Rex regards her from behind the bar for a long moment. “You shouldn’t feel like you have to do things that would make you unhappy,” he says gently, “so I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Thanks…I’m going to go home, I think, thinking about Sol getting shacked up is making me maudlin,” Anemone gets up from her stool, “I’ll see you around.”

“See you next time,” Rex replies, watching Anemone head for the exit.

He worries about Anemone. They’re not close, except that they’re both close to Sol, but Sol loves Anemone viciously and doggedly, long past the point everyone else had given up on trying to remain her friend, and had stubbornly pulled her back into the fold.

But he sees how Anemone still sets herself a little apart, and he wonders. 

–

Rex spends a pleasant morning sitting in the lounge, Cal’s arm around his shoulders, watching a serial called Provenance. Sol drops by during their meal break to sit pressed up against Cal’s other side, and he catches himself wondering about Anemone saying it sometimes looks like you’re dating–

He had honestly never thought very hard about it. True, he’d hook up with Cal in a second if the other man seemed remotely interested, but he’s not. It’s companionship that he wants, and he gets it – it feels good, to sit here with Cal sprawled next to him, choosing him for company. He wants that far, far more than he wants Cal to sleep with him. 

Sol, too – Sol and Rex had been an item for ten months, give or take. And Sol had made him feel special. They’d stared attentively at him with those huge red-brown eyes and paid attention to him in a way nobody had since he’d met Nomi. Sol treated him like he was smart and insightful, noticed the things he worked hard for, and made the time to help him. And when they stopped hooking up, that thoughtful and measured attention remained.

He feels loved by them. He feels loved by Nomi, too, and Marz. Back on the Heliopause, this is what he daydreamed about. A whole community of people working together and supporting each other, plenty of interesting things to do, and all the companionship and fun he could want. 

Cal yawns widely, covering his mouth with one hand. “Up late?” Rex asks, failing to keep the amusement out of his voice. 

“Fretting myself stupid over this nanoprinter slot,” Cal admits, “I mean, what if I print something Sol hates? It’s unlikely, but what if they hate it?”

Rex gives this idea serious consideration. “Do you want sympathy,” he asks after a moment, “or advice?”

“...advice, please.”

“Ask Marz,” Rex says promptly, “Marz pays attention to people’s style, and if she thinks Sol won’t like it, she’ll tell you.”

Cal pauses, scratching his head. “Dip, I should have thought about that, but I was busy giving myself hives I guess?” he sighs, giving Rex a brief squeeze. 

“Happy to help,” Rex grins, settling in to continue with their holovid.

–

Glow arrives. With no more attacks to worry about, it’s easier to enjoy how beautiful everything is. Nomi borrows an Expeditions vehicle, and the two of them spend a long afternoon driving around the colony outskirts while Nomi points out places they recognised from outings with Expeditions. 

The only problem is, Glow is considerably colder than the other seasons, which wasn’t an issue when everyone was spending the season mostly inside. Occasionally he has to wear a shirt to be a comfortable temperature, which is a rarity and also inconvenient. Nomi wears his t-shirts, usually to sleep in, more often than he does.

Also, the bar is busy, often with soldiers who are still keyed up and waiting for a shoe that he’s increasingly confident will never drop. Unofficially, Cal and Sol start spending more and more evenings around the bar, nursing a glass of wine each and occasionally chatting with other patrons until the moment a fight breaks out and one or both of them step in to sternly separate the participants.

Rex hears raised voices, lifts his eyes to find Cal and then realises Cal is the source of the ruckus, streaked with dirt and grinning furiously. He’s clinging to Sol, who is laughing, also spattered with mud. There’s a silver ring on his left hand, glinting against Cal’s clay-streaked fingers.

“So you said yes, then!” Rex yells across the bar, and Cal and Sol respond with intermingled yells of victorious delight, both of them laughing.

Nomi looks up from their work, catching sight of the new arrivals and beaming. “Oh, finally,” they smile, “we thought you’d never ask!”

“Cal dumped me in the mud,” Sol complains, “I managed to take him with me, though, so we’re ev – mmmph! ”

Rex rolls his eyes, patiently waiting for Cal to finish his best efforts at kissing Sol silly. “How do you think we feel, knowing you two were both planning on proposing? Agonising, ” he mock-sighs when the lovebirds finally break apart, “I’m glad you did it. Drinks now, or after the mud’s been washed off?”

“I think we might get mud all over your chairs,” Cal says sagely, “hot bath first, my everything hurt before Sol threw me on the ground.”

“Started it! ”

Rex flicks water at them. “You’re both very cute, now go wash up. I’ll see you if you don’t get distracted, eh?”

The two of them lurch out into the darkness, still laughing. With them gone, Rex casts his eyes over the bar. Ida and Patch are sitting on two barstools, Ida drinking something bright green with enough alcohol in it to knock most grown adults flat and Patch nursing a glass of whiskey, bright-pink ear plugs visible underneath her hair. Marz is holding court at one of the back tables, a wolfish grin on her face. And Vace –

Huh. 

Vace is here. He’s at one of the corner tables, with a group of soldiers who seem to have set up a card game. Vace is too well disciplined to have his shoulders around his ears like when they both were children, but from where Rex is standing, he looks a little too stiff. 

Rex goes back to serving drinks, keeping half an eye on Vace. The Garrison used to enjoy a certain amount of prestige due to standing between the colony and yearly alien attacks, but that prestige is decaying now. 

Some of the Garrison are taking it better than others, and he’s not sure which category Vace falls into. Considering Vace cemented his status on the Heliopause by breaking Rex’s arm, he’s not interested in finding out personally.

“Another one of those weird green things for Ideation, please,” Patch requests, and he busies himself pouring something like six shots of alcohol into a cocktail glass. Eventually, he gets warm enough rushing around taking drink orders that he sheds the shirt (someone, probably Marz, wolf whistles and he throws in a little hip-wiggle for their further enjoyment) and loses himself in mixing drinks and chatting up regulars.

One such regular is leaning across the bar for a good luck kiss, which is a tradition he can’t recall starting but will not complain about, when he realises Anemone has entered the bar. She has her back turned to Vace, and is giving Rex a moderately perplexed look.

“Good luck,” Rex grins, then turns to Anemone, “wahey, how’s your night going?”

Anemone blinks, as if startled to be addressed. “Well, pretty boring so far,” she does not acknowledge Vace at the back of the bar, “was that a…partner of yours?”

“Naw,” Rex says comfortably, “somewhere along the way people got the idea they can snog me for good luck finding something a little more permanent. They,” he nods to the patron’s retreating back, “are about to try to buy that man over there with the mohawk a drink. I think they’ll probably hit it off, although I’m not always right.”

“Matchmaking?” Anemone looks amused, sitting up at the bar, “it’s interesting that you do that, considering you’re not much one for long-term relationships?”

Rex bristles, just a little. “What do you call Nomi, then?” he asks, a little more sharply than he intended.

There is a gravid pause. “I thought you weren’t dating?” Anemone ventures, after a moment.

“We’re not,” Rex shrugs, “but they are the most important person in the world to me, and I love them. It’s not that complicated. If Nomi wanted to do datey stuff, I’d do it with them, but they don’t, so I won’t.”

“So, you like them, but they don’t feel the same way…?”

Rex barks out a laugh. “What are you on about?”

Anemone frowns at him. “I’m trying to understand what’s going on here. You act like it’s easy to get, but it’s not.” 

“It is easy,” Rex grins, “I love Nomi, and I want to do stuff we like together. They’re my life partner, and I fully intend to spend my life with them. Nomi doesn’t expect anything from me I can’t give, and wants what I can – that doesn’t have to be romantic.”

“You don’t wish you had something…?” Anemone’s expression is curiously blank – she’s clearly deliberately hiding what she’s thinking, but it’s hard to tell what or why.

Rex gives her a long, considering look, long enough that she starts to squirm. “I mean,” she mumbles, “I know it’s none of my business…” 

“Why don’t you tell me why you’re asking,” he grins, “and then perhaps I’ll tell you?”

Anemone looks incredibly startled for a moment, the tips of her ears turning red. “I…” she frowns, “I guess I’m trying to figure some stuff out. Sol says I can do whatever I want, but…I don’t know what that is.”

Rex regards her for a long moment. “I’m either about to crack this wide open,” he says sympathetically, “or make it way worse. Have you considered that what you want in the long term and what you want right now might not be the same?”

“No, I gotta figure out my whole life right now or I’m gonna do something so stupid. ” Anemone grouses, folding her arms on the bar and resting her head on them. 

He’s so tempted to ruffle her hair. It looks fluffy and soft, and the gesture wouldn’t be out of place, but they’re not that friendly, so he resists the impulse valiantly. 

“Good luck with the doing something stupid,” he says instead, and Anemone makes a rude gesture at him.

The night winds on. Marz sweeps up to the bar and orders a round of drinks for her table, then leans across the bar to plant one on him for good measure. Sol and Cal return, Sol physically pulling Anemone off her barstool and dancing around with her in an incredibly un-Sol-like display of unfettered delight while Cal corners Marz to discuss plans for the ceremony.

Every so often, Rex looks up, finding Vace’s pale head in the crowd. At one point, he spots him staring over at Anemone, who is crammed into a booth with Sol and Cal, apparently reminiscing about their days in the creche. His expression, at a guess, is thoughtful. 

Rex has no idea what thoughtful means, coming from Vace, and considering the healed break in his arm likes to herald any drop in temperature by aching he does not care to find out. He keeps an eye out for any flicker of blonde, but Vace simply sits and drinks, face grim as ever. 

Eventually, it gets late enough that the bar starts to empty out. Marz stops by, drops off an empty glass, and winks at him. “I’ve missed you,” she says, “night in sometime?”

“I would love that,” Rex smiles, taking the empty glass. By a night in, he knows she means probably dinner, a drink or two, and an entire probably-uninterrupted evening of sex, cuddling, and all the best gossip about goings-on in Admin. And more than likely breakfast the next morning as well – Marz is busy, and a solid twelve hours of her company is a luxury he appreciates greatly. 

Nomi goes to bed not long after. “I might come crawl in with you after this,” he grins, leaning across the bar to kiss their forehead, “I’m beat.”

“I’ll be up playing games for a while,” they smile back, a little sheepishly, “just ping me.” 

Later on, he comes out from behind the bar to hug Sol and Cal. Sol winds their arms around his waist and rests their head on his shoulder, Cal’s stubble rasping at his cheek and his arm across Rex’s shoulders. They’re both a little buzzed, giddy from their impromptu engagement festivities – he can feel their joy, warm and light and wonderful, not just to be engaged but to be engaged here, with him and Anemone and Marz.

Rex watches them head off towards their quarters, then turns and starts. Vace is standing behind him, looking…not afraid, but something perhaps close to it. He looks young and unsure, and although he has several inches of height and three years or so on Rex, he looks small.

Vace opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out except a strangled exhale. He looks down at Rex, face wooden, for a long moment. Rex lifts his chin a little, silent, heart hammering. Vace wouldn’t dare, surely, not in his bar, but then again they both know might makes right, and there’s one way to prove might–

Then Vace breaks eye contact and sweeps past him, the military’s arrogant golden boy once more. Rex blinks, resting a hand on the bar, shaking his head. 

What the hell was that?

The bar continues to empty out. Patch claps him on the shoulder on her way out, the rest of Vace’s table leave, and eventually Rex is alone in an empty bar. 

He stands in the middle of the floor, surveying his vacant kingdom. Sol keeps telling him he should get some more staff, and they’re right, but he wants to have the quiet after closing time for himself just a little longer. 

Rex picks up a cloth and some cleaning spray, turns on his hearspeak, and gets to work. He turns on the steriliser, wipes down every surface, and then retrieves a mop and a bucket from a cupboard. 

It’s hard, sweaty work, but it’s good. He’s part of something bigger, something he dreamed of all those years aboard the Heliopause while people told him to grow up and do something useful. 

Rex did grow up, and he did do something useful, just not the way they intended.

Alone in the deserted bar, Rex passes the mop from hand to hand and spins lazily, head nodding along to the music. “-- catch your breath, and when the worst relents, you learn to live unless you learn to live on less –”

This is what he wanted. This is what he dreamed of, and he has it, and it’s exactly as good as he thought it would be. Better, perhaps, because he could never have imagined Sol, or Marz, or Cal–

“You duck some, you take some square, your luck runs out right there in mid-”

There is a scuff outside, and Rex’s heart leaps into his mouth. Why would anyone be coming back – Cal or Sol would have pinged if they’d forgotten something – if Marz was after a quickie she wouldn’t be trying to be quiet – what if it’s Vace –

Rex stands frozen, clutching the mop like it will do him any good at all, when he hears the unmistakable sound of someone throwing up.

Heart still hammering, Rex pads towards the door and leans out. There is a huddled figure sitting on the ground next to a puddle of vomit, hunched with misery. The blue light of Glow catches on long, pale arms, the eerie white of skin broken up by scales.

“Anemone,” he says, and the huddled figure flinches, “you don’t look so good.”

Anemone moans unhappily in agreement, shrinking. “Up you come,” Rex says, leaning down, “there’s a washroom in here you can clean up in.”

“-- me alone,” Anemone mumbles, battling at him with a hand.

Rex rolls his eyes. “I will not. Sol would pull my spine out my ass for letting you choke on your own vomit in a ditch.”

Grizzling wordlessly, Anemone permits him to pull her arm around his shoulders and haul her to standing, protesting when he accidentally lifts her clear off her feet, and haul her into the bar’s bathroom. “I’ll get you something clean to wear and a weak tea,” he says sternly, “you stay here.”

“You don’t have to do this,” she coughs, grabbing on to the counter for support, “I can take care of myself.”

Rex, internally, sends a plea for patience to any god or gods that might be listening. “I’m sure you can,” he looks Anemone directly in the eye, “but it’ll be easier with help.”

Anemone frowns at him, crumpled and vomit-stained, but does not argue. Rex heads through into the main area of the bar, grabs his discarded t-shirt and a clean cloth, and dispenses some hot water from a zip into a mug with a teabag in it. Not everyone comes to the bar to drink alcohol, and at Anne’s suggestion he made a habit of keeping other options behind the bar.

He returns to find Anemone sniffling furiously and attempting to wash her face in the sink. “Clean shirt, washcloth, cup of tea,” he says, putting the items on the countertop.

There’s no objection, just Anemone silently washing her face and taking a sip of the tea, then pulling her shirt over her head before Rex has the chance to offer to leave the room. He averts his eyes – she’s wearing something underneath, a sports bra or crop top, but he doesn’t get more than a glimpse. 

“Wouldn’t think you’d be bothered by someone changin’,” Anemone mumbles, pulling the t-shirt over her head.

“I only want to look if people want me to,” Rex grins tiredly, “and to be blunt, I don’t think you want me to.”

Silence. Anemone picks up the mug and wraps her fingers around it, as if to warm her hands. “I don’t want people who want to get one over on Vace to pick me as the way to do it,” she says eventually, “there are a lot of people who’d like a chance to get back at him.”

Ah. “You want people to want you,” Rex thinks aloud, “reasonable. You’re more interesting than getting back at him, I think.”

He sees Anemone lift her head in the mirror, so he’s looking her reflection full in the face. There is something raw and awful in her expression, in her fingers curled around the mug and the defensive hunch of her shoulders. Her eyes are red-rimmed and swollen, and she’s looking at him like she’s searching his face for something and he can’t figure out what. 

She says absolutely nothing, just looks at him with a steadiness that reminds him very abruptly of Sol’s strange grave fearlessness – but flatter, tinged with the full-body hunch of a kicked animal. 

I’m right, he thinks, you’re afraid people don’t actually want you, they want to get back at someone who treated you like a prize instead of a person.

Anemone turns around to face him, leaning back against the sink, chin tilted back in something that might be a challenge. She puts the mug down and takes a step forward, then another, then her hand is on the back of Rex’s neck and pulling him down–

“Woah,” Rex says, placing a hand firmly on Anemone’s shoulder and gently pushing her a full arm-length away, “no, you are extremely drunk.”

Anemone blinks, hard. “I thought we were having, like. A moment,” she says quizzically, swaying a little. She is still very drunk. Everything about this is bad.  

Rex opens his mouth to make an intelligent and reasonable response, and instead a completely bewildered and slightly plaintive noise comes out. His working night was over and he was all set to crawl into Nomi’s bed and let the background noise of them playing games lull him to sleep, but instead Vace tried to do or say something and now Anemone has tried to kiss him. 

Normally he’s thrilled when people want to kiss him, but looking at the confused look on Anemone’s face, he’s not sure if she does, or if she felt that was just what she was supposed to do.

“I’m sorry,” Anemone says thickly, “I fucked up, I’m sorry, I’ll go–”

Rex shakes his head, his hand still on Anemone’s shoulder. “It’s fine. That’s just, not – look, Anemone, if you want to do that sober, hit me up. But this is unfair, on you, and on me too.”

Anemone opens her mouth, then shuts it. “I’m sorry,” she says again, “I just. It seemed like what was supposed to happen next.”

“That’s kinda weird,” Rex smiles tiredly, “you shouldn’t do things because you’re supposed to, otherwise I’d be a solider right now and we wouldn’t be here having this conversation.”

Silence, then Anemone barks out a laugh. “It made sense at the time. I…need to get some air. I can leave you to, um…”

“You can not,” Rex says sharply, “I am coming with you because I am worried about you choking on your own vomit, so I am either putting you to bed somewhere in the recovery position or sticking with you until you can walk in a straight line. Your choice.”

Anemone snorts. “Okay. Fine. I was gonna go lie down outside?”

“We are going to go lie down outside,” Rex replies cheerily, “that actually sounds good, and I wanna do it.”

Anemone’s vomit-stained shirt goes into a bucket to be dealt with in the morning, and the two of them wander outside. It’s chilly, but not uncomfortably so, and the grass is dry when he sits down.

Nomination: rex is everything ok?
Basorexia: Yeah I’m hanging out with Anemone, she’s super drunk and I’m kinda worried she’ll choke on her own vomit so we’re chilling until she sobers up.
Nomination: oh ok! i hope she’s alright?
Basorexia: me too! i’ll see you later ok?

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Rex answers, “just letting Nomi know I’d be out late. We live next door to each other, they tend to notice if I don’t come home.”

Anemone flops down on the grass, frowning. “You could go home. I don’t need taking care of.” 

Rex mulls this idea over for a moment, stretching out first one leg, then the other. “It’s not a virtue,” he says eventually, “to never need help. Happy people don’t drink themselves stupid, Anemone.”

Silence, for what is probably only two minutes but feels like a subjective eternity. Rex wonders if he’s gone too far and she’s about to tell him to piss off when she turns and looks at him, violet eyes cool. The blue and green lights of Glow render her strange and ghostly, stripping the vibrancy from her hair and skin, eyes a ghostly and unnatural blue.

“Are you?” she asks, eyebrows furrowed. “Happy, I mean.”

(beautiful art of Anemone by penguinPerson! <33)

Rex opens his mouth, then stops and tallies it up. He has the bar. He has Nomi. He has Marz, and Sol, and Cal. He’s not sure if he has Anemone. He has–

“I’m going to tell you something,” he whispers, “but you can’t tell anyone.”

Anemone’s expression is indecipherable. “Okay?”

“I’m going to be a father, all going well,” he lifts a hand, so she can see him cross his fingers, “probably…early Dust.”

“Did you knock someone up?!”

Rex laughs. “No, sperm donor. Not that I’m opposed to the old-fashioned way, but there’s a very nice couple I work with in Construction who needed a little assistance, and they were happy with my terms. And one of them’s pregnant, now.”

A long pause. “I was conceived from a donor,” Anemone says eventually, “all of us were. He wasn’t like…a parent, but I run into him in Medbay sometimes. He’s nice.”

“I want to have a relationship with my kids,” Rex folds his hands over his stomach, “I just…like children, though. I think if I didn’t have the bar I’d be in the creche by now.”

Anemone wrinkles her nose. “The idea of like…being pregnant, and being responsible for a whole person? Freaks me out. I think I’d probably fuck them up. I know Mom thinks we’re the best thing she’s ever done, but if she loves kids and still messed up some things…I’d be a disaster.”

Rex shrugs, staring up at the sky. “I mean. Do you want to be a parent? I think if you did, you’d make it work. But if you don’t, you shouldn’t.” 

“You make that sound way simpler than it is,” Anemone says distantly, “I thought I wanted a lot of things. I wanted Vace. I thought he was the only person who understood me for…a really long time. But I shouldn’t have wanted him, and I shouldn’t have wanted to burn down every damn thing on this planet, and I shouldn’t have…”

Anemone trails off into silence. Rex chews his bottom lip and glances back at her. She looks grim, jaw set, the expression of someone braced for the worst. What kind of person thinks Vace understands them, is the only person who understands them?

“Too personal?” she asks, with a thin little smile.

Rex shrugs amiably. “No. I just…think I understand you a little better, and I’m thinking over what to say next. Vace and I used to be pretty friendly, believe it or not, before he broke my arm.” 

“He never mentioned that,” Anemone says, aghast, “he said a lot about you, but never…what happened?”

Absentmindedly, Rex lifts a hand to scratch at the scar on his forearm. “He was, uh, maybe thirteen, and I was…ten. We were both small, and people picked on him, and they picked on me as well. I wasn’t…friendless, though? I had met Nomi, and I had some other friends.”

“And then?” Anemone’s mouth flattens, like she’s bracing herself for what she knows is coming next.

“Soldiers respect strength,” Rex says, sounding more tired than he intends to, “so they didn’t respect me, so I was an acceptable target. They respected Vace after he demonstrated he was strong enough to hurt someone, and had the will to do it. I had to do physio for a couple of years, and people stopped hanging out with me because they were worried about being the next victim.”

Anemone looks startled. “Fuck. And you’re not…mad at him? You don’t sound mad.”

He pauses, thinks it over. “Of course I’m angry. He broke my arm so badly I needed two years of physical therapy and I was a social pariah for years. I never did anything to him, I was just…there. I couldn’t have prevented it, and nobody really knew how to deal with it. Nothing came of it.”

“...you’ve never wanted to get back at him? You don’t have to let him in the bar. People would back you up, if you wanted him gone?”

Rex barks out a laugh. “No,” he smiles, “that wouldn’t fix anything. I’d just be another person flexing what power I have to hurt someone who can’t fight back.”

“Oh,” Anemone exhales suddenly, as if all the air has been punched out of her. She’s looking at him like she’s seeing him properly for the first time, cool and evaluatory. 

Rex’s heart jumps into his mouth. There’s something in that gaze that makes him feel like it’s on the other side of a plasrifle sight, like he is in dangerous territory. Her gaze is blurred with intoxication, and he doesn’t want to know what it might be like sober. 

“That scar on your arm,” Anemone says, after a subjective eternity, “was that…”

“Vace,” Rex nods, sitting up and offering her his forearm. The scar gleams silvery-blue, stark and eerie.

Anemone rolls over and her fingers curl around his wrist, holding his arm steady while she turns it gently one way and then the other. He feels abruptly nauseous and exposed – Anemone’s grip is careful, he could shake it easily, but her hand may as well be on his throat. 

“That’s a bad break,” she murmurs, one fingertip coming up to trace the gnarled line, “and you were ten.” 

Rex inhales sharply, and Anemone blinks and takes her hands away, opening her mouth to almost-certainly apologise. He waves her off, shaking his head. “It’s fine, I just wasn’t expecting you to get handsy,” he grins, “not that I blame you, I’m very touchable.”

Anemone snorts, shaking her head. ‘I was just thinking if someone did that to one of my brothers…” she trails off. 

Rex shakes his head. “Your adults are different,” he says gently, “you Strato kids are different. I was an acceptable target, in a way you would never have been. That would never have happened to you.”

“I guess,” Anemone says bleakly, “I was an easy target too. I’d had a really big fight with Cal, and Sol would normally have got us to make up but their Dad died and then…Vace was there, and he seemed to understand, and I didn’t need any of my old friends and they wouldn’t get it anyway…” 

“Cal is a stubborn ass,” Rex smiles, “stars, I love the guy and I saw how close he got to losing Sol. Inaction is still making a choice, you know? I’d rather fuck up knowing I went after what I wanted. If he never fights for anything he doesn’t have to accept responsibility for what happens if he can’t win.” 

Anemone is giving him that look again, like she’s looking at him for the first time. “That’s…” she murmurs, “Vace made you out to be…well…”

“Randy, weak and stupid,” Rex supplies, with an amiable shrug, “unless he came up with something new no one repeated?”

“Yeah,” Anemone cringes, looking at her hands, “I wish I hadn’t believed him? If I’d known about the arm, then…” 

Rex pulls a face. “It sounds like from where you were standing he was the only one making sense. You don’t have to make anything up to me.” 

Anemone flops down on her back, scowling. “I feel like I do, though. I ruined basically all of my friendships, we could have been friends but weren’t, and Vace’s shitty mates said all of this stuff about the other Strato kids and I didn’t say anything. Sol called me a coward once and I was so mad and they apologised later, but they were…kinda right?”

“Anemone.”

“Hm?” 

She’s giving him a wary look, and once again he’s reminded of a cornered animal. Cornered animals are dangerous, because you don’t know what they’ll do to get out of the corner someone’s put them in.

Rex takes a moment to mull over the sentence before he says it. “You don’t get a choice in whether other people forgive you. I’ve forgiven you and you’re going to have to suck it up.” 

Anemone stares at him blankly for a moment, then tries and fails to smother a laugh. “Okay,” she smiles, eyes crinkling, “I’ll do my best.”

She has a nice smile, cheeky and a little conspiratorial and contagious. Rex finds himself smiling back, not intentionally, so her next question takes him by surprise.

“Have you forgiven Vace?” 

Rex regards her for a moment. “I’ll answer that,” he says gently, “if you do.”

“Fair,” Anemone grins wryly, “no. I’m not good at the whole...forgiving thing.”

Rex nods solemnly. “I have.”

“...how?”

“Time,” Rex admits, “it was twelve years ago, closer to thirteen. In the long run, I don’t think it’s done him any good. People were afraid of him, but they didn’t love him. You did, and he fucked it up with you.”

Anemone scrubs her hands through her hair and yawns widely. “I hope I can, someday. I don’t want to be this kind of person anymore.”

“I think the kind of person we should both be is asleep,” Rex smiles, “I’m confident you’re not going to choke on your own vomit, unless you want to pass out in the grass?”

Anemone sits up and shakes her hair out, picking out blades of grass. “No, it’s cold, and kinda damp. I want to be warm.”

“Okay,” Rex clambers to his feet, and offers Anemone a hand up. She waves him off, standing on her own, bleary and frizz-haired in a comedically oversized t-shirt. 

The two of them amble along in silence. It’s surprisingly comfortable. The colony never really sleeps, there’s always people at work – Tangent is sitting outside Medbay, small and tidy, reading something on a holoscreen with a mug in one hand. She lifts her head and nods in greeting, and then goes back to her holoscreen.

“I hate Glow,” Anemone says conversationally, as they draw closer to her quarters, “I spend the whole month climbing the walls. It’s pretty, but I’m just…”

Rex stops, turning to look down at her. “It’s not just you, if that helps. Stars, Sol brokered this whole thing and I don’t think they’ll sleep properly til Quiet. I’ll breathe out when I see a sunrise.”

Anemone looks up at him, mouth quirking sideways. “Thanks for staying up and talking to me. I’m sorry for trying to kiss you with vomit breath.”

“Already forgiven,” Rex grins, “it was nice…talking to you properly?”

“Yeah, it was…ugh, this door always sticks, hold on,” Anemone fumbles with the door, then shoves it open with her shoulder and turns the lights on. Her quarters are small, but they look spacious, an abandoned mug sitting on a side table and a few personal touches on shelves and walls.

She turns to eye Rex, “Satisfied? Or are you not going to be convinced until you get to tuck me in?”

“Unless you want to be fussed over,” Rex smiles, “I think we can part ways here.”

Anemone looks up at him, face thoughtful. He’s not sure if he wants her to say yes, stay, and then –

And then what, exactly? She could take him to bed, but he’s not entirely convinced it would be an entirely good idea, and that’s not fair on him because he doesn’t want to be party to people harming themselves. Anemone, he is pretty sure, wants something from him. He doesn’t know what it is.

She probably doesn’t, either.

Instead, she says “G’night, Rex,” pulling the elastic out of her braid and beginning to comb it out with her fingers. 

“G’night, Anemone,” Rex smiles, hesitating for a moment before slightly spreading his arms in the unspoken offer of a hug.

Anemone takes a step forward, then another, winding her arms around his middle. She’s short enough to fit under his chin, even in heavy-soled combat boots, and strong enough to make his ribs creak. Rex wraps his arms around her and feels her exhale, cheek on his shoulder. 

He can’t shake the feeling he’s in danger, in a plasrifle sight, throat exposed. The more vulnerable Anemone comes off, the sharper she seems at the edges.

But she’s compelling, regardless.

Anemone steps back, and Rex steps back over the threshold, and then the door is shut and Rex is on the other side of it, chewing his lower lip thoughtfully.

He turns around to head back to Nomi’s quarters and realises he has an observer: Vace is sitting in one of the lounges, a holoscreen in front of him and a steaming mug at his elbow. He’s looking at Rex with a slightly baffled expression on his face, like he can’t quite make sense of what he’s seeing.

Heart in his mouth, Rex gives Vace the very slightest chin-lift of acknowledgement. Vace’s mouth pulls sideways in an expression that could mean anything, and goes back to his holoscreen. 

Nomi is still awake when he lets himself into their quarters, curled up in bed playing a game on their holopalm. Rex climbs into bed next to them, mashing his face into their side and wrapping an arm around their hips. Nomi smells sweet and familiar, and after a moment their hand drops down to stroke his hair.

“Hi, Rex,” Nomi smiles softly, putting down the console and leaning down to kiss the top of his head. “Long night?”

“Mmmrgh,” Rex says into the fabric of their sweatshirt, “I think I’m worried about Anemone?”

Nomi frowns, shifting so Rex can properly burrow into them, both arms locked around their middle. “She’s kinda…scary?”

“A little,” Rex grins, “but she’s nice, too. And I think she’s not doing too well, and I might be the first person she’s talked to about it. And I ran into Vace earlier, and he was being…kinda weird?”

Nomi’s hand goes still. “Weird how? Did he threaten you?”

“No,” Rex sighs, “he acted like he was going to say something, and then he left. He looked…kind of uncomfortable.”

Nomi makes a frustrated noise, thumb rubbing the inside of his ear. “Is it bad that I want him to do something, so I can stop waiting for him to do something? Does that make sense?”

Rex rolls off their lap and wriggles himself in between Nomi and the headboard – Nomi is small, but heavy enough that the weight and pressure feels reassuring. And he does need reassuring, both that nothing bad happened and he’s not irrational for being worried that it could. “It does,” he grumbles, “I wish it didn’t. I’m scared of what he’ll do, especially now his job’s not important and he’s not a hero.”

“You don’t need to be scared, though,” Nomi says philosophically, “here’s not like the Heliopause. If he starts anything, he’s outnumbered by all your friends. It won’t be like it was on board ever again.”

His shoulders drop. It hadn’t occurred to him that he could worry about that, that he could end up alone except for Addie and Nomi, but having it said out loud that it won’t happen feels like a terrible and immense relief.

“I think,” Rex laughs, ”I’m not quite as past it as I thought I was, I think. I’m done talking about it, though – tell me how your writing’s going?”

Nomi links their holoscreens and starts talking about their latest piece of utopian alien fiction, and all the research they’ve been doing, and Rex starts to feel his eyes drooping and heart slowing. He’s warm, and Nomi’s voice and the weight of them pressed up against his chest are familiar and comforting, and the world gently blurs into sleep.

–

“I have an idea.”

Marz puts her wine glass down and raises her eyebrow. They’re both in her kitchenette, an open bottle of mushroom wine on the table. Marz is in comfortable clothes – they’re stylish, because it’s Marz and very little she owns isn’t beautiful, but her work clothes are on hangers and her holopalm is set to mute unless there’s a priority alert. 

If Marz says he has her full attention for the evening, he has it. He has a list of truly excellent ideas for later, but he has some business to get out of the way first. 

Rex grins at her, steepling his fingers. “I was thinking it might be nice to host a sort of festival. Glow makes people tense, still, and I was talking to Sol–”

“Conspirators,” Marz says fondly.

“-- and they’re on board with holding something all night, at the bar, so people can drink, dance, and greet the first sunrise of Quiet. If,” he holds up a hand, “and only if it works well, we can make it an official holiday and throw Admin support and resources behind it.” 

Marz smiles, putting her fork down. “I can tell you’ve run this past Solace,” she says, “since it’s not official, go ahead, and build a case for something more official next year. Of course, I will be coming.” 

“I never take your time for granted,” Rex grins, “but that means a lot. I hope to deliver on expectations. And I think it’ll do everyone good to have something to associate with Glow that isn’t…monster attacks.”

“You’ve made your case,” Marz grins back, “stop talking. There are better things you could be doing with your mouth.”

Rex stands, eyes dancing. “Make me,” he laughs, taking a couple of steps out of her reach. Marz’s eyes gleam, vicious and delighted, and he knows the game is on. 

--

Basorexia: operation sick new years party has been given the go ahead! I talked to Marz about it last night and she’s on board
Nomination: wahoo! ^o^
Solace: I didn’t think Marz wouldn’t be hard to convince and having a “trial run” for a more official festival is low risk. And I think it would help us all move on.
Nomination: decorations! maybe things that’ll look pretty with the lights down?
Solace: Oh! You’re suggesting we only use natural light, or keep unnatural lighting low and/or thematic?
Basorexia: ooooooooooh I like this plan. Let me check what lighting I have and if I need to nanoprint anything I’ll book some slots for next week?
Solace: I’ll book you some. Cancel them if you don’t need them, though.
Basorexia: yes boss!

–-

He’s in the creche, helping with a craft activity, when a door slams open. 

“FIrst aid kit,” Sol says, breathlessly, and Rex is closest. He opens a cupboard, pulls it open. 

“Where?”

Sol braces their hands on their knees. “Sportsball,” they wheeze, and it’s probably a kid–

Rex is moving before he can consciously make the calculation that Sol will need a second before they can move again, but he’s fresh and he’s fast – the kit is in his hands and he’s out the door, vaulting over obstacles and weaving around people, although people have learned that if Rex moves with purpose to get the fuck out of his way–

Then he’s on the sportsball court, skidding to a halt in front of a weeping child with scraped knees and a makeshift icepack up against his forehead, and Anemone, who takes the kit from him before he can say anything at all, opening it and pulling out antiseptics wipes and bandages. 

“Sorry, Tem, this is going to sting,” she says, “but it’ll hurt loads more if this gets infected. You can say a rude word really loud, or squeeze Rex’s hand really hard, and I’ll be really really quick. Okay?”

Temperance sniffles, wiping his eyes with his free hand. The scrapes on his legs look long, but shallow, flecks of gravel and grass in amongst clotting blood. Anemone rips open a packet of antiseptics and begins gently dabbing at one leg. 

“Stings real bad,” Temperance whines, grabbing for Rex’s hand. He’s a stocky kid with a shock of dark-blue hair and a set of raised lines along his neck that Rex knows are functional gills.

Anemone carefully works her way along one leg, occasionally pausing to carefully extract a piece of grit from the wound. “Yeah, they should invent an antiseptic that doesn’t hurt so bad, huh? We’re halfway there.”

Rex squeezes Temperance's sticky little hand in silence. Nobody on the Heliopause would have done this, not out in the open anyway. It would all have been don’t cry and head up, soldier and it’s just a scrape, nothing to fuss about, why are you such a baby.

“Can you get Tem a painkiller tab? It’s only one for under-twelves, I’m pretty sure,” Anemone doesn’t look at him, just points an elbow at the kit. “You have no idea how many times Kom had to patch me and our younger brothers up.” 

Rex goes hunting for a blister pack, flipping it over for the dosage requirements. “Yeah, he can have one. Did you get scraped up a lot?”

“All the time,” a flash of a smile, “used to drive my mom crazy. Sol and Cal too, we were always getting dinged up doing stupid kid stuff. S’why I got so many of these, see?”

Anemone pushes up a sleeve to show a forearm covered in patches of scales. “So trust me, I know how much these things sting, but we learned a valuable lesson about being careful when it’s dark out. Kay, Tem?”

“Kay,” Temperance says, a little mulishly, “I’ll go slower next time.”

Anemone wipes at the heels of his hands, then sits back on her haunches. “Okay, all done. Do you want someone to come to Medbay with you, or do you wanna go on your own? I sent your Dad a holomessage and he’s going to meet you there.”

“...by myself please?”

“Okay,” Anemone unfolds to her full height and stretches, “make sure to take it easy. You’ll be back on the pitch in no time.”

Temperance limps off in the direction of medbay, and Rex packs up the kit. “I was worried it was something more serious,” he grins wryly, “Sol came bursting in and I was worried I was gonna be looking at a leg break or something.”

“He did fall on his head,” Anemone points out, eyes still on Tem, “not hard, but you don’t fuck around with head injuries. Kom ironed into me that if someone takes a knock, they gotta see Instance or Tirah.”

“Sometimes I’m reminded we grew up real differently,” Rex sighs, closing the kit with a muffled snap. “I’m glad for that, though.”

Anemone looks down at him. “The way they talked about the Strato kids…the other Strato kids, like I wasn’t actually one of them.”

“But you are,” Rex stands up, tucking the kit under his arm. 

She doesn’t reply. She doesn’t look at him, just at Tem’s retreating back as he vanishes into Medbay. 

“I am,” Anemone says eventually, scratching at a patch of scales on her arm. 

–

He keeps seeing Vace everywhere. There was a time when he could safely go weeks without running into him, but there are rumours that the Garrison is downsizing in stages, inflamed by the recent downgrade of a group of older soldiers to reservists and the fact that enlistment seems to be closed.

This has upsides – Addie is one of the reservists, newly redeployed in Construction. She seems happy there, and he sees more of her. They haven’t lived together since before they arrived in the colony – the Heliopause expected teenagers to live in juvenile barracks, away from their parents, and then on Vertumna he got his own room, with more privacy than he’d ever had in his whole life.

Addie helps him pick up a nanoprint order of decorations for the bar and carry them through. “Hey,” she smiles, “want to know something funny?”

“Hm?”

She parts her hair at the temples, revealing a liberal sprinkling of grey. “We’re gonna start matching before long.” 

Rex leans down to take a closer look. Addie, he knows, is not that old – she was a little older than he is now when he was born, but old enough that she’s beginning to get crows feet. They look alike, and when he looks at her he wonders if age will sit as well on him as it does on her. 

“You’ll need to get a lot greyer,” he grins, “I have a head start. Put those down over there, thanks.”

He flicks the bar lights on and starts unpacking the order. He’s been advertising his New Years party and it looks like people like the idea – the bar is going to be decked out with blue and green lights he can kill when the suns start to cross the horizon. It’s going to be very pretty, he hopes. 

“Looks like you’re going to have your work cut out for you,” Addie says thoughtfully, looking at the contents of the box, “you’re going to get some help with this, right?”

Rex nods, lifting out a carefully-packed box of blue-green lightbulbs. “Even if I don’t ask for it, people will show up.”

“I’ll try to spare an hour or two to help,” Addie smiles, “many hands make light work and all that.”

Setting down the lightbulbs, Rex leans over to wind an arm around her waist. “Thanks, Addie,” he mumbles, “you don’t have to.”

“You’re right,” she says comfortably, “I don’t. But I will.”

True to her word, Adamant shows up with a ladder and a toolbox the afternoon of the party, as well as a tiffin of hot snack food purloined from the kitchens. “There’s a rather nice woman helping Antecedent who is perhaps a little sweet on me,” she winks, “I asked the kitchens if I could have some snacks for the working bee and she really went above and beyond.”

“Sure did,” Sol grins, wiping their hands, “not that I mind. You going to buy her a drink sometime, then?”

Addie’s eyebrows twitch. “I try not to have first dates at my son’s bar,” she grins, “I don’t need the commentary from the cheap seats.”

“I’ll behave,” Rex gives her a winsome smile, and she laughs and ruffles his hair, “that was only one time, and it’s not like you had a bad time considering you went ho–”

Abruptly, he has a mouthful of flatbread. “That’s enough from you, squirt,” Addie laughs, “be a darling and pass me those little twinkle lights.”

Cal passes Addie another bundled-up string of lights, sniggering at the indignant look on Rex’s face, and she heads back up the ladder to hang them up. 

Nomi is consulting something on their holopalm, arranging crystals and small lamps on the tables and at regular intervals along the bar. Sol is hanging up lengths of fabric on the walls. The effect, hopefully, will be to gently bathe the bar in blue-green light well enough for everyone to see but not so much as to drown out the natural light of Glow. 

“Alright,” Cal says, hands on his hips, “I think…that’s everything? Nomi?”

Nomi gives him a thumbs up. “That’s the last of everything, yeah. We need to carry stuff over from the kitchens, and then we’re all set to go.”

“So,” Sol grins, “what I’m hearing is that Cal and I are going to go fetch things from the kitchens before we go clean up and put our glad rags on.” 

“Glad rags? You mean a shirt that’s not a tank top?” Rex ducks out of the way of a half-hearted swipe, yelping when Sol hip-checks him into a table. “Hey! I’m being teamed up on!”

Sol high-fives Cal, then shrugs, hands on their hips. “Don’t start fights you can’t finish, Basorexia. Besides, you can’t talk, do you plan on putting a shirt on at all?”

“Actually,” Rex huffs, “Marz nanoprinted me something, so I will be, and I look terribly dashing in it. I am going to be on theme .”

Cal eyes him speculatively, then leans over to Sol to stage whisper “What are the bets it’s mesh? ”

“My love, I would not wager any kudos on it,” Sol says sagely, eyes dancing, “those look straight, Adamant.”

Addie turns around from the top of the ladder. “Told you to call me Ada, kid,” she smiles, “but cheers. I’m gonna go take a nap, I’ll stick my head in later but it might be a bit loud for me.”

“Only if you want to,” Rex beams, “but it would be nice to show you what everything looks like lit up.”

Nomi looks up from their holopalm. “We’re going to take loads of photos, so you won’t miss it if you’re tired and it’s too loud. It was nice to see you!”

Addie dismounts the ladder and pulls Nomi into a brief hug. “Of course, darling. It was nice to meet you two. Rex mentions you often.”

“Well dip,” Cal says goodnaturedly, “I hate to think what kind of impression you got from that. See you maybe tonight, maybe around?”

Addie waves, ruffling Rex’s hair one more time on her way out. Insulated containers are retrieved from the kitchens, and Rex heads back to his quarters to shower, change, and put on eyeliner. He usually wouldn’t bother, but it’s a special occasion, and he told people to dress up so he’d be remiss in not going all out. 

When Rex arrives in the bar, Nomi is already there, wearing a sparkly top and a liberal dusting of body glitter, kicking their feet nervously. He sits down next to them and kisses their cheek. “Ready to see if we’ve made this work?”

“No,” Nomi grins, “I’ll never be ready, but we’re going to do it anyway. Rex, hit the lights, please!”

Rex gestures, and the warm white light of the bar dims and then vanishes entirely. At the same time, the lights Nomi spent the afternoon carefully arranging flare into life, bathing the room in a convincing simulacrum of the bioluminescence of Glow, refracted through crystal and softened in places with frosted glass and fabric drapery. It catches on the glitter on Nomi’s cheeks and dusted across their shoulders, and in the reflective thread woven through the sheer fabric of Rex’s shirt. 

“Okay,” Rex exhales, “okay, this doesn’t look silly, it looks fucking galactic. ”

Nomi bounces to their feet. “We’ve still got a little while before anyone arrives. Is there anything we need to do?”

Nope. Nothing. He’d double and triple-checked everything, and now he had half an hour to do…nothing. Well, something.

Rex gestures again, music beginning to play through the bar’s speakers, and points at Nomi. “Nothing! Except... a dance-off! ”

Nomi laughs, nodding along to the music and bouncing on the balls of their feet. “Challenge accepted! Prepare to lose, Basorexia!” 

Not that Rex had any plans to win. He just needs to get all the tension out, and alone with Nomi flinging themselves around and yelling is the best way he knows how. 

After a few songs of frantic, high-energy dancing, the two of them collapse onto a couch, giggling, and stay there until the first partygoers begin to trickle in. 

It’s a good party, he thinks. The colony have come through on the request to dress up – he can see Tangent nursing a drink next to a wall, wearing a rather fetching indigo off-the-shoulder number, and Sol is wearing a variation on their usual coat that leaves their heavily-tattooed arms bare, the long tail swishing as they dance with Cal, who is a heavily embroidered tunic. Marz swans in fashionably late in a silver dress, cut high in the leg and low over the cleavage, and leans over the bar to kiss him breathless before sashaying onto the dance floor. 

The colony needed this. He needed this, to find some way to prove that the world is a different place and that he’ll never hide indoors while his colony is battered, that he’ll never be alone on the Heliopause dreaming of a community, that he has a pack all of his own and here they are, drinking and dancing and waiting for the sun to rise.

There are even Gardeners here – Sym is sitting up at the bar with a portable screen, reading something Nomi sent him, and a couple of the shapes in the crowd don’t look quite right. 

Anemone sidles in the door, dressed in tight trousers and a halter top, and sits up at the bar. “This place is lively,” she smiles, “I think people like the idea of giving the year a send-off.” 

“Going to stay until the sun comes up?” Rex grins back, already in the process of mixing her up a drink. “And do I have to keep an eye on you to make sure I don’t need to put you to bed again?”

“On my honour I will drink water,” Anemone says solemnly, “I maybe mentioned what happened to Sol and they threatened to post baby pictures on the Holonet if I get so smashed someone needs to take care of me again.”

Rex laughs, placing a glass in front of her. “They’re a good friend, but I’m hoping the threats won’t be necessary?”

“No, if I get absolutely smashed I throw up, cry, and kiss people,” Anemone grins, “and I don’t mind one of those at a time, but all three? Nah.” 

He had said that she was very welcome to try to kiss him again sober, and nothing had eventuated from that. But they’d had a moment, sitting on the grass with her fingers cool on his inner arm. He’d felt seen, and felt that for a minute he’d seen Anemone, brave and thoughtful and curious, and liked her more for it.

“I’m wounded,” he says lightly, “most people who kiss me highly recommend the experience.”

Anemone scrunches her face at him playfully. “Good for you, you wouldn’t recommend snogging someone with vomit breath, though. So embarrassing, thank you for stopping me.”

“Don’t mention it,” Rex laughs, “I don’t think you actually wanted to, you just thought you were supposed to. I only want people to kiss me when they want to.”

“I don’t think I’m going to be dating again for a bit,” Anemone sighs, “I just…don’t want it to be like it was. And if people seem fine…so did Vace, before he got controlling and weird. You know?”

Rex shrugs, interlacing his fingers and stretching. “Not personally, but I understand the impulse. But you can be too careful, I think, and cheat yourself out of honest fun. I could introduce you to some people who’d be a straightforward roll in the sheets if you wanted to blow off some steam, or if you’re after something more serious…?”

“Oh, stars,” Anemone sniggers, “terrifying! Sometimes I think I’d like to, you know, but actually finding someone? Null it. I’ll fuck off into the wilderness first, and I hate it out there.”

“Well, there’s Marz,” Rex laughs, “you could walk up to her this second and tell her you want to have sex and she’d make the time. Vinny – you might know him – he gets around a lot but no one’s said a bad thing about him…Nell’s a great time…hm. Oh, me, obviously…do you know Mor? Mor’s delightful.”

Anemone blinks. “No, not you obviously? What?”

“...Yes?” Rex scratches the back of his neck. “Why not?”

There is a horribly gravid silence. “You saw me chunker all over myself,” Anemone says, “and you basically have your pick of anyone.”

Rex snorts, shrugging extravagantly. “If I never slept with anyone I had seen have a gross bodily function I’d never get laid at all,” he grins, “and I like being the person people come to for a good time. It’s not about having my pick, it’s about doing something I enjoy. Does that make sense?”

“In theory it does,” Anemone sighs, “but I’m just…twisted up. Sometimes I want to jump someone just to prove I can and that nothing bad will happen.”

“It’s not a bad idea,” Rex slides a glass of water across the table, “there are worse reckless things to do than go home with…any of the prospects I listed. If you need to prove to yourself it’ll be fine.”

Anemone looks over her shoulder. “...is that Nell? In the pink? I’ve seen her at the Garrison.”

“Nope,” Rex laughs, “that’s Patch. Nell’s sitting at the next table along, with the braids. You’re going to go talk to her?”

“I’m feeling like doing something a little reckless,” Anemone smiles at him, momentarily absolutely radiant, “so I’m going to go tell her how pretty her hair is and see how I go.”

Rex snorts, gesturing to the glass in front of her. “Drink that first, then go and be brave and talk to the pretty girl.”

Anemone picks up the glass and drains it, setting it down on the bar. She grins at him, bright and cheeky, and he’s beginning to understand Sol’s dogged, stubborn devotion to this woman. The flashes of earnest, honest warmth are compelling. He wants more of it, and he’s not sure if it matters how.

She turns and heads over to the table, head held high. He hears Nell say “Oh, Anemone, right? I love your outfit–” and smugly congratulates himself on a job well done.

Closer to him, Marz has successfully dragged Tangent onto the dance floor, where Sol is dancing with Nomi. Cal appears to have found a plate and sat down to quietly annihilate a share of snacks, and–

“Another one of these.”

An empty beer glass gets set down on the bar, and Rex is halfway through refilling it when he realises the voice belongs to Vace, who looks as profoundly uncomfortable as Rex feels. 

Rex finishes filling the glass, then sets it on the bar in front of Vace. “Anything else?” he asks, and his voice sounds fake to his own ears. His heart is all of a sudden in his mouth, and out of the corner of his eye he sees Cal sit up, very slightly.

Vace’s mouth flattens. “No,” he says, then: “this is a good event.”

“Thank you,” Rex’s smile is pasted on his face and he knows it and Vace knows it, “we’re hoping to make it a yearly thing.”

Vace nods soberly, takes his beer, and leaves. Moments later, Solace is at the bar, empty glass in hand. “What was that about,” they whisper, eyebrows furrowing, “is everything okay?”

His heart is hammering, every nerve in his body screaming to fight or run. The room feels claustrophobic. Sol’s callused fingers close around one of his wrists, gripping tight. “Rex?”

“He ordered a beer and made small talk,” Rex says distantly, “it was fine. I was…prepared for the worst.”

Solace pats his face. “Take a break,” they say gently, “come sit with me and Cal and Nomi. You have staff, come enjoy what you’ve made.”

One of the other bar staff steps in, and Solace leads him by the hand to a table, where Cal promptly slides him a plate of snacks and he realises he’s ravenous. He sits, quietly stuffing his face and feeling his heart rate slow, while Sol and Nomi gossip about Expeditions and Cal watches the dance floor, boot tapping against the floor. 

Tangent has acquired another drink and is still dancing with Marz, and now Anemone and Nell. Rex has run out of snacks, but he also feels much better with some food in his stomach, so he rises up to join them, bringing Solace with him. The music has got louder as the night goes on, and the dance floor is getting steadily more populated, including with some of the older colonists – Tirah is dancing with Perk and Addie, and Flulu is sitting on a barstool nursing a glass of mushroom wine. 

He hears a raucous laugh, and a dismayed exclamation from Tangent, and turns to find Marz dancing on a table, glass in hand, singing along to some track the Strato kids all seem to know. Solace looks fondly exasperated, but they’re also singing along, and while he’s watching them a colourful blur shoots past him and towards the table. Cal whoops, flinging out a hand to steady the table as Anemone takes a flying leap onto it.

Anemone flings her arms out to steady herself, joining Marz at full volume: “--just not true I’m a maneater, all the same we should probably go dutch! Love is like liquor, it burns as it moves you, far as I figure there’s nobody fireproof– ”

Tangent has the expression of someone whose patience is being tested, crossed with what is clearly fondness for at least one of the women currently dancing and singing and laughing, haloed by blue-green light. Marz is showing off, and from the looks on some of the other patrons, she has an appreciative audience.

Rex offers Marz a hand down from the table and she takes it, laughing when he takes the opportunity to twirl her once she’s safely on the floor. He makes the same offer to Anemone, who waves him off and jumps down, landing square on both feet. 

“How’re those reckless choices going for you?” he asks playfully, and she laughs.

“Well, Nell’s pretty cool, it’s been nice to talk to her,” Anemone smiles, “and I did just dance on a table. Can’t let Marz have all the fun, right?”

Rex shakes his head. “Thankfully those tables are sturdy. Back to the bar with me – can I get you another drink?”

“Oh, yes please,” Anemone smiles, and Rex ducks back behind the bar. Lum is sitting on one of the stools, carrying a camera. He nods to Rex and lifts the camera to take a photo of the crowds – Lum has mellowed out considerably over the last three years, and he’s almost tolerable to deal with now. 

Rex doesn’t think they’ll ever be friends, but Lum is another person who was ill-suited to the Heliopause. He hid it better, perhaps, but he seems happier and more functional as one of Marz’s underlings than he’s ever been.

He mixes Anemone another drink, while she sits and rests her chin on her hands, eyes closed. A slow song has come on, and over her shoulder he can see Sol and Cal swaying gently, talking in an undertone.

Rex heads out back and sets out more snacks, then busies himself serving patrons. Anemone nurses her drink slowly, and more colonists begin to flow in – it looks like some of them have elected to take naps and then join the party in the wee hours, and he abruptly finds himself busy with a fresh wave of partygoers, all of them after libations. 

The music gets more lively, and sometimes when he glances up he can see his friends in the crowd – Cal and Nomi bouncing to an uptempo pop song, Anemone on her own tossing her red-gold hair with her glass upraised, Solace leading Marz through a series of showy spins in an echo of the rest of their dynamic. He’s lost track of Sym, who might just not be human-shaped anymore, who might have got overwhelmed and left.

The mood in the room is mostly good – a few raised voices at one point, but Sol and Cal both amble over and whatever animosity there was dies quietly.

Two hours before dawn, he sees Cal boost Sol onto a table, and they gesture at Rex to lower the volume. He does, and Sol raises their glass.

“Tonight, we celebrate making it another year on Vertumna,” Sol calls out across the ensuing hush, “but I think it fitting that today, on the last day of the year, we celebrate the memory of those who are not here tonight, and who did not make it to see today.”

Utopia unfolds herself from one of the tables closer to the bar, lifting her pint glass. “To Melatonin.”

Sol lifts their glass in turn. “To Geranium.”

Cal, sitting at the table they’re standing on: “To Aspartame.”

“To Halitosis!”

“Tenacity.”

“Opalescent.”

Tang, sitting up at the bar, voice clear and clean as glass: “Arabesque.” She doesn’t say Dysthymia, and Rex wonders if she still holds out hope that four years after his disappearance, Dys might still be out there. 

Across the room, Vace lifts his glass, opens his mouth as if to speak, and then shuts it. 

More names, some Rex recognises and many he does not. Someone toasts Eudicot, who died the previous Pollen at ninety-three.

Anemone, towards the end, stands up and says “To Kombucha. I wish you could see this, bud.”

It’s a long time before the Colony runs out of the names of the dead. There’s a minute of silence, then Sol dismounts the table and nods to Rex. 

“Thank you all for being here tonight,” he says, “ninety minutes from now, the suns will rise on a new year. You’re all welcome to drink, dance, and watch the sunrise with us. Last call for drinks will be half an hour before dawn, and the hardworking folks on morning shift at the kitchens will be along with hot tea. We still have plenty of food left over – I’ll be putting out containers, please do help yourself to any leftovers.”

There’s a smattering of applause, and an ironic bow from Salutation, who has only just arrived – one of Cal’s fathers, who apparently habitually rises at four in the morning to work the breakfast shift. 

Nomi ducks behind the bar to wind an arm around his waist, resting their head on his shoulder, and Rex rests his chin on top of their head, folding himself around them. “I think this went really well,” they say contentedly, “everyone’s telling me how lovely the decorations are, and how nice the food is, and how good it is to have a reason to come together as a colony…”

Rex grins, giving them a tight squeeze. “And it would never have happened without my best friend in the universe and number one cheerleader,” he kisses the top of their head, “did you see Sym leave?”

“Mhm,” Nomi squirms until they can look up at him, eyes wide, “but I got him to read the stuff I’m working on and he says it’s very compelling! He wanted to go read somewhere quieter.” 

Cal coughs from the other side of the bar. “Can Sol and I have refills? Marz wants to talk dates for the commitment ceremony.”

Rex rubs his chin on top of Nomi’s head, laughing when they attempt to swat him. “She doesn’t waste time! With the getting hitched and the moving into family-sized quarters, should I expect to be an uncle soon?”

“Well,” Sol says gravely, “we’ve been trying very enthusiastically, but I just can’t seem to knock him up.”

Nomi hoots, covering their mouth with both hands. Cal has the longsuffering expression of someone who has heard this joke before, probably multiple times. “It depends if Admin and Geoponics can spare both of us,” he says, covering Sol’s mouth with one hand, “it might be a couple more ye– my star, if you slobber all over my hand I’ll wipe it on your face.”

Sol gives Cal a look of silent beseeching innocence, until he sighs heavily and takes his hand away. “We both want to take some time away to be parents, but Cal’s pretty instrumental as Second Cultivator for the foreseeable future, and we’re still transitioning into this new arrangement with the Gardeners…” they sigh, “so it might be a few more years.”

Rex grins, recalling the sheer excitement when he got the message about the positive pregnancy test, the first scan, the conversations about enhancement…”Worth the wait, I’m sure.”

“Definitely,” Cal grins, “are you going to spend the rest of the night behind the bar?”

“No,” Rex shakes his head, “my own staff are kicking me off duty in half an hour. So I better get back to it, then I’ll come and dance for a bit.”

Nomi giggles, elbowing Rex in the ribs. “They just want you to enjoy yourself too!”

Rex busies himself serving drinks and putting out more snacks and water before his shift runs out and his staff gently but firmly push him out from behind the bar. He joins the crowd of dancers, which is beginning to thin – he can see Addie talking to Flulu over a glass of wine, and Lum appears to have found a table of what Rex can only assume are his friends, and Cal is sitting down with three of his parents and Marz, apparently talking wedding plans.

“Hey, you,” Sol grins, suddenly at his elbow, “dance with me?”

Rex grins, taking the offered hand. “I can never say no to you,” he winks, “having a good night?”

“Of course,” Sol smiles, “it’s nice to see Anemone mingling a bit more. Did you do, that thing you do?”

“Mhm,” Rex shrugs playfully, “she mentioned she found putting herself out there intimidating and I suggested a few people who she could…introduce herself to and see what happens. I hope it goes well for her.”

Sol chews their bottom lip. “I hope so too. I love her, and I think she deserves to be happy. Maybe on her own, but if she’d like to date I want her to get to do that. You know?”

Rex smiles, nodding. “I feel the same way. I’m happy, you’re happy…but it’s not complete until everyone is, right?”

“Right,” Sol beams, “I don’t want to leave anyone behind.”

Close to dawn, a chime goes off on his holopalm, and the roomful of colonists begin to filter outside to sit on the grass as Rex and Nomi turn the lights off. Some people have brought picnic blankets, and Rex finds himself sitting on one with Cal, Sol, and Nomi, Nomi tucked up against his side and one of Cal’s arms around his shoulders. 

Marz has stolen one of the few benches, silver dress gleaming. Tangent is sitting next to her, back ramrod straight. He can see Anemone sitting on the grass about a metre and a half away – Sol gestures to an empty patch of blanket, and Anemone smiles and shakes her head. 

The first of the suns begins to cross the horizon, pale light seeping across buildings and grass like syrup. Someone cheers, and there is a smattering of applause. Marz lights up like a beacon when the light touches her, the shimmering fabric of her dress shining like sunlight reflecting off a lake. In retrospect, this was her plan all along. 

Anemone’s hair practically glows where she sits, legs stretched on and her hands in her lap. The light catches on her damp eyelashes, and Rex looks away. Nomi’s head is pillowed on his chest, eyelids drooping, and he sees Sol and Cal exchange a glance, a faint smile visible on Sol’s face before they both look back at the rising sun. 

Later, Rex picks up discarded glasses and plates and loads them into the steriliser. He’s the most tired anyone has ever been, and the rest of the cleanup can wait, but he can at least put the dishes on. 

He picks up his keys, runs his fingers through his hair, and hears the unmistakable sound of someone throwing up outside. 

Ugh. Not again. He doesn’t think it’ll be Anemone – he saw her leave, relatively sober, chatting to Nell. Rex sticks his head out the door and looks around until he spots someone folded over with their hand braced on the wall, groaning. 

“You alright there?” he asks, lounging on the doorframe and eyeing the figure. Whoever they are, they’re bigger than he is, and he could haul them to medbay, but he’d prefer not to. 

The figure turns their head, listing awkwardly, and Rex’s ears flatten. Vace glares at him, bleary-eyed, the corners of his mouth turning down as he registers who is speaking to him.

“Piss off,” Vace says, clearly going for “threatening” and missing the mark completely. He’s pallid and squinting into the light.

Rex stares at him for a long moment, trying to settle on what to say. His palms are sweating, because it’s Vace and he’s angry, but he’s also such a sorry picture that Rex can’t muster up any fear at all. 

“Whatever,” Rex mutters, exhausted, “deal with it on your own.”

Vace coughs weakly, trying to straighten up and listing dangerously, grabbing onto the wall for support. “Enjoying yourself?” he spits, wiping his mouth with the back of a hand.

Rex stares at him, uncomprehending. “No, why would I be?”

There are a few seconds of silence. “You’re on top now, with your stupid – eugh – bar, and your friends in high places, and you’re here to hrrrrgh– ”

“What the fuck, man,” Rex says tiredly, “I can’t live like that.”

Vace throws up again. Rex winces, resolving to breathe with his mouth from now on. 

“Go home, Vace,” he says, “this is an embarassment. And whatever you might believe, I derive no joy from seeing you make an ass of yourself.”

With visible effort, Vace hauls himself upright. He looks like absolute shit. “I’m fucking fine,” he snarls, before attempting to head towards the cannibalised carcass of the Heliopause.

Rex deliberates, then sets off after him. “If you head behind Geoponics,” he says, “you’ll get there without visibly staggering through the commons in broad daylight.”

Vace glares at him blearily. “I was going that way anyway,” he says, visibly changing course.

“Uh huh,” Rex replies, falling into step with Vace, “forgive me if I’m not convinced of your ability to make it home without eating shit.” 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you,” Vace growls, listing perilously to one side before standing bolt upright, scowling.

Rex sighs noisily through his nose. “I just told you I can’t live like that, Vace. You’re an asshole, and I don’t like you, but I prefer not to waste any time thinking about you. You spend your time thinking about how to get your own back? Fuck that, sounds exhausting.” 

Vace says nothing, trudging through the grass with his eyes on his feet. Rex stays just out of reach – Vace is fast, he knows, but he can also barely keep himself upright. 

“I saw you and Nemmie,” he says eventually, “you were kissing.”

Rex frowns at him. “I never,” he replies stiffly, letting the distance between them widen. 

“I saw you,” Vace insists, “you walked her home, and then…”

“I walked her home after we sat outside chatting for a while,” Rex scowls at him, “and then gave her a hug. Not that’s any business of yours who either of us are kissing.”

Vace makes a disagreeable noise, grabbing onto a railing. “You both hate me,” he says, as if that’s a complete argument. 

“I don’t hate you,” Rex scrubs his hands through his hair, “and I don’t care to get into relationships with the sole purpose of making you feel bad. Not everything is about you.”

Silence. Vace trudges along, head down, hands clenched at his sides. Rex’s palms are slick with sweat, and he swears his heart is hammering in his chest so violently Vace should be able to hear it. 

He catches Vace glancing at him, realising he is being observed, and looking away. Rex recognises the expression on his face, the full-body flinch of an animal expecting a kick.

You’re afraid of me, of what I could do to you, he thinks, just like I’m afraid, of what you could do to me. But I was right when I said to Anemone being cruel to you would be harming someone who can’t fight back.

What can you do to me now? It’s not like it was. 

They reach the entrance to the hollowed-out remains of the Heliopause. The interior isn’t how he remembers it, but then, Rex avoids going anywhere near it. That part of his life is over, and now he looks at it, it’s the same for the Heliopause itself – seven years on, the interior has had walls knocked out to make a foyer out of…he doesn’t remember what used to be where he’s standing now. A mess hall, maybe? 

Vace wipes his boots, with the mechanical air of someone working on autopilot. “I know my way home,” he says, “piss off.” 

“Fine,” Rex replies, “don’t aspirate vomit in your sleep.”

Vace slopes off down a corridor, and Rex turns and heads back towards his quarters. He manages to undress and wash his face, then climbs into bed to sleep.

Or try to, anyway. He lies awake, thinking of Vace’s expression as he said you’re on top now, of the changed interior of the Heliopause, of Nomi saying I’ll never be ready, but we’re going to do it anyway.

Eventually, sleep claims him.

–

A week later, Marz announces most of the Garrison have been downgraded to reservists, and will be progressively redeployed in the coming months into other work and training opportunities. A small standing security force remains, led by Rhett, with a wooden-faced Vace as his Second Security Officer and eventual successor. 

Rex is alone in the bar, washing out a cocktail shaker, when Anemone walks in. She’s out of uniform, hair down and sprinkled with spark-snow, and dressed casually. Scratching her head, she visibly scans the room, then shrugs and heads up to the bar.

“Hey,” she says, “it’s been a bit.”

Rex smiles, putting down the cocktail shaker. “Wa-hey, Anemone,” he says, “how’s reserve life treating you?”

“Well,” she says reflectively, “I’m trying lots of new things. I went out with Expeditions today, because some of my skills might be transferable, and driving the vehicles is kind of fun. I tried to use a glider and completely ate shit, though.”

“Ooof,” Rex winces sympathetically, “can I get you a drink, or are you waiting for someone?”

Anemone turns slightly pink. “Ah…I’m waiting for someone. Someone from Expeditions asked if I wanted to have a beer after, so…”

“Oooh, like a date?” Rex perks up, beaming.

“I’m not sure if it’s a date,” Anemone looks rueful, “he didn’t call it a date, but…”

Rex pauses, thoughtful. “Did Nell not work out? You guys seemed to be getting along.” 

Anemone’s blush deepens. “Oh. We hooked up a few times. It was nice, but I think I want something a little less casual?”

“Reasonable, and go you,” Rex muses, “who’s the maybe-date? Nomi’s with Expeditions sometimes, I can tell you anything I’ve heard.”

“Ah, Ben? Verbena?”

Rex pauses, thinking. “Oh, him! Oooh, lucky you if it is a date. Do you want it to be a date?”

“Maybe? I think so?” Anemone scratches the back of her neck, a rueful smile on her face, “I had fun working with him today, and it’d be my first like…actual grown-up date? I’m nervous!” 

“Don’t be,” Rex grins, “whether it’s a date or not, someone wanted to hang out with you after work. He already thinks you’re cool, don’t worry about impressing him, you’ve already done that.” 

Anemone exhales, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Dude, I am nervous and excited. It actually feels kind of nice, though? Fizzy!”

Rex laughs, shaking his head. “I think people call that getting butterflies, Anemone. Can I get you anything? Fries? Drink? Kiss for luck?” The last one is half a joke, not that he would mind.

“A jug of beer and some fries please,” Anemone grins at him, “and I’ll take the kiss too, while I’m being brave. If it works for some people, maybe it’ll work for me?” 

“You’re going to need to get up on one of the stools then,” Rex says wisely, heart kicking violently in his chest, “you’re awfully far away, and kinda short.”

Anemone rolls her eyes at him, scrambling up onto one of the stools. “For that,” she grouses, “I might bite you instead.”

Rex flutters his eyelashes at her and grins widely, showing off his fangs. “Only if you want to start a fight you’ll lose badly.”

“I only pick fights I plan to win,” Anemone says, expression grave but eyes glittering with mirth, reaching across the bar. 

Rex obligingly leans across to close the distance, and Anemone cups one side of his face with a hand. There are scales on her hands, cool and rigid against the skin of his jaw. 

Her lips are briefly against his, warm and a little chapped. It’s a very careful, chaste kiss, and it doesn’t last long. 

Anemone draws back, fingers briefly lingering under his chin, giving him an absolutely unreadable look. Rex is, once again, struck by the feeling of being in a plasrifle sight, and then she straightens up and her hand drops to the tabletop.

“Good luck,” he smiles, “I’ll get to work on the drinks.” 

Patrons begin to wander in, alone and in pairs and small groups. Rex looks up at one point and sees a man with bright lilac hair sitting down next to Anemone, who is talking animatedly. From the look on his face, Verbena also would like for them to be on a date. 

Nomi sits up at the bar, bringing up their holopalm. “You look thoughtful,” they comment, “tell me what’s on your mind?”

Rex grins at them. “Nothing major, just thinking…I went inside the Heliopause a little while ago.”

“Yeah?” Nomi looks intrigued, lowering their holopalm.

He tugs on an ear thoughtfully. “I barely recognised the inside, same as the people we grew up with are scarcely recognisable as the people they were on board. I liked the reminder that…change creeps up on you? Even if I’m not paying attention, nothing’s frozen in place?”

“Deep thoughts,” Nomi says sagely, “but good deep?”

“Yeah, good,” he sighs, “I’m changing, too. It’s good, though? I don’t know, the whole parent thing is starting to feel a whole lot more real, and knowing that none of us are fossilised as we were when we became adults is…a relief?” 

Nomi grins, shaking their head. “Yeah, but you’ll always be my best friend. That’s a constant.”

Rex looks at Nomi for a long moment. They’ve never really settled down, but they seem to have settled into being a jack-of-all-trades – making art, working in Robotics and Expeditions and introducing the kids at the creche to holoshows and video games. They’re more confident, now, trying new things with the fearless acceptance that they’ll have a lot to learn and willing to try anyway. 

“We’ll change together,” he promises, leaning over the bar to ruffle their hair, “want a drink? I’m trying some new ones out, I think they’re pretty good and need help naming them.”

Nomi brightens, sitting up. “Oooh, hit me!” 

--

time flies like the crow does
with no regard for the grid
i can’t ask you to show love
but would it kill you if you did

nobody fears the height, you all just fear the fall
go to the edge sometime and prove your body wrong
you land badly, but you crash standing

– dessa, “the crow”