In Dying Starlight

11.25

Despite his heart-to-heat proclamation, Zane doesn’t speak after I sit. He puts his hand on my back when I ease down alongside him and asks if I’m alright then goes silent for a good ten minutes. It’s quiet here, and no one else seems to be out, so I don’t mind. I’ve wanted to say some things myself, but it’s not as if I’m very good at this. Besides, the things I’ve been considering don’t seem to be able to be put into words. There’s so much, and no way to say it. 

Still, when he still hasn’t spoken up, I figure I might as well try, “I’m uh…sorry about all this.”

He blinks as if deep in thought, frowning at me. “None of this is really your fault? At all?”

I shrug, awkward, but decide I might as well plow through the things I want to say before I lose my nerve. Still, it mostly comes out as a stupid attempt at a joke, “Well, for one thing, I’m starting to remember everything that happened down in those tunnels, and I’m about ninety-seven percent sure I choked you.”

“Oh,” he says, then snorts loudly. “Yeah, you did actually. Not very well, but yeah.”

He rubs his neck, but there aren’t any markings. Either I was weaker than even I thought, or the doctors already fixed him up. It’s been a few days, after all. 

“Sorry.”

He snorts again. “You couldn’t see or hear me, I shouldn’t’ve run up on you like that, I probably scared you half to death.”

“Can confirm.”

“I’m just glad you didn’t stab me in the face.”

“I was gonna.”

“I could tell,” he says, then chuckles harder. “Half dead and you’re still scarier than most people.”

“Thanks?”

“It was a compliment.” 

I can’t help but laugh too, then rub my chest, my ribs complaining. “Also, I’m gonna say this once, and then I never ever wanna talk about it again…I’m uh, sorry about crying all over you.”

“Huh. Sure. I wasn’t crying at all. Definitely not. You were totally the only one—”

I shove his arm but it doesn’t move him very far. He grins, staring at the fountain.

Then he sobers. “Aaron, I’m uh…I really shouldn’t have gotten pissed at you for walking away after we…got your DNA tested. I wasn’t really mad at you.”

I’d almost forgotten about it, and shrug awkwardly. “I shouldn’t have left I guess—”

“It wasn’t really that. You were upset, I get it. I just…” He picks up a fallen leaf and shreds it. “I really believed it, Aaron. I really did. And I was shocked, I guess. Eventually, I turned around to look for you because I wanted to apologize for it all and try to see if you had anything comforting to say, but you’d already left. That made it worse, somehow. I was taking my anger out on the wrong person. I said some really shitty things, and I’m sorry.”

I stare at the ground. People don’t usually apologize to me like this. I know enough now to realize these siblings aren’t average humans, but I still don’t know what to say. “I’m sorry too, I know you’re grieving and I still bit back. I shouldn’t have.”

Zane shrugs. “I have seen you say ya lot worse to people for a lot less, you weren’t that bad. But thanks.”

He’s got me there. I smile without feeling it. “I really am sorry…about your brother.”

He nods, not speaking. I see his throat working as he swallows. 

I can’t help but ask, “Did you figure out what happened to him? Did the ship logs help?”

He nods again, slower this time, and clears his throat. “He, uh…never even made it to Amerov.”

I blink.

“Yeah, apparently they stopped at another planet for fuel on the way back. There weren’t a lot of details, they were just ship logs, but they uh…crashed. Or someone crashed into them, it wasn’t very specific. Either way, the wreckage was logged in, and no survivors. Three bodies. Him and the two numbers who picked him up. Yeah. He uh…never even made it a few days after they took him off Hytha. They just never bothered to tell us, I guess.”

Something lodges painfully in my chest. This hurt me, it truly did, but it must be hell for Zane and Lalia. I’m gonna have to find La and talk to her too, no matter if the idea of it makes me want to shrivel up. They’ve been looking for a ghost for decades.

That kid brother of theirs had no idea how good a brother and sister he had. 

“I’m really sorry,” I say again, weakly, for lack of anything better. “I would’ve helped you find him, ya know. If there was some hint he was alive, I would’ve helped you find him.”

I don’t know why I say it. Partially because it’s true, but also because I hope it helps him a little, I suppose. Zane’s face just scrunches into a pained frown, staring at the fountain. 

Slowly, he shakes his head. “I didn’t want him to be anyone else.”

I match his frown, not quite following. “What?”

He scoffs without humor. “You don’t really get it. I know you don’t believe me because you don’t think anyone likes you all that much. But I didn’t just want him to be anyone out there. I wanted him to be you. Even if he was alive, and was someone else out there in the galaxy. I didn’t really…I didn’t just want my brother anywhere out there. I wanted you to be him. Alright. No other person. Actually you.”

He leans over and rests his face in his hands. I stare down at him. What do I say? My throat burns. 

“I wanted it to be me, too,” I tell him gently, and he nods, still leaning over. “I’m really sorry, Zane.”

“Me too,” he says. “I’m so sorry we brought you into this. We really thought…” He sobs once. “We would never have done this to you if we didn’t truly think… I’m so sorry we did this to you.”

He can probably hear the crack in my voice, but I tell him, “I’m not.”

He sniffles, “Huh?”

“I’m not sorry about that part.”

He glances back at me a little, hardly visible in the dark greenhouse with his hair falling over his face. Still, I can see the tears. 

“I’ve never had good friends before,” I say. “I mean, I have Bat, and you know how I feel about him. But…I raised him, it’s…different. I’ve never had people who just decided they liked me for no other reason than they liked me. Even if you’re not my brother, I’m not sorry for that part.”

Zane turns his face away again, then leans back and tugs me under his arm, my head on his shoulder. I leave my arms where they are, frightened of making myself cry as much as he is, but I don’t tell him to get off me. It doesn’t freak me out anymore, leaning against them. 

“By the way,” he sniffs. “In case you get any ideas…we’re not planning on heading out. We don’t know what we’re doing, but we’re not planning on leaving you guys here, especially not while you’re still healing up.”

I swallow, then nod, not trusting my voice. I didn’t know I was going to come out for a conversation like this, and sleep is dragging at me even when I’m still scrubbing tears off my face. Maybe I shouldn’t have gotten out of bed—won’t be telling Yvonne that part. Zane doesn’t seem like he’s going to release me anytime soon, so I lean on him and stay quiet. 

* * *

When Zane’s been likewise quiet for a time, I say, “Thanks for saving my ass. Again.”

He gives a weak, rough cough of a laugh. “Since you seem to be keeping track you can count it for the one where you crawled into a burning, exploding ship to get me.”

“I did do that, didn’t I? I’m so heroic.”

“And incredibly humble.”

“Precisely”

“I don’t think you should’ve gotten out of bed. You sound out of it.”

“Zane, if I’m tolerating all this crying stuff, I’m out of it.”

“Uh-huh.” Slowly, he gets up, helping me to my feet and keeping a hold under my arm, muttering something that sounds suspiciously like you started it under his breath. I ignore him. When I glance his way, he looks about as rough as I do, and I don’t want to bring it up.

“And don’t tell Yvonne about this conversation. There’s only so much humiliation a man can take.”

“Oh hell no, you know she’ll just sympathize with you and mock me with an inch of my life.”

I wrinkle my nose. “How have we gotten to the point where I’m the one she’s not mocking.”

“I believe that would come with the kissing.”

“Oh yeah, good point. Is it just me or does this place give you the distinct feeling it’s going to break and we’ll all drown?”

“It wasn’t, but now it is, so thanks.”

I snicker, then lean against the side of the steps and say, “Ow.”

“Ya know, I’m not a doctor, but maybe don’t laugh for a few more days.”

“I dunno what drugs they’re giving me, but they’re good.”

Hooking his arm back under mine, he leads me up the steps. “Oh, so that’s why you didn’t run for your life when I started apologizing. How are the new eyes?”

“Weird. Nice. I can’t tell if they have any heat-seeking equipment in them. I use that a lot, ya know.”

“I have noticed. How much have you used it on me?”

“Only when saving your life, smartass. Also, they just used to do it without me wanting.”

The moment I open the door, Yvonne calls, “I can hear you two insulting each other out there. What do you think you’re doing out of bed?”

“You’re the third person to ask me that,” I grumble, and despite my best efforts, Zane steers me over and seats me on the foot of the bed. I give him my best dirty look, but I think it hurts my face more than it guilts him. Typical. 

Lalia is sitting on the kitchen counter with what’s likely a glass of wine, Anya at the table eating…something. We probably both look awful at this point—I’m glad it’s dark in here.

“I didn’t let him get up,” Anya says, shoveling more food into her face.

“No one thinks you can stop me, squirt.”

Zane says something to Lalia, squeezing her arm, before pouring himself his own wine and sitting beside me on the bed. 

“I’m not giving you any,” he mutters. “You’re already high as a moon.”

I roll my eyes, which gives me the beginnings of a headache, but I think it’s the crying, not the healing injuries. Yvonne is diving up food, and my stomach growls. I’ve eaten a little since I woke here, but not much.

“Aaron, do you want to lie down or sit at the table?”

“I’m not that fragile,” I grumble, though I’m not certain it’s true. 

A lump moves under the covers, and Bat pushes out, half asleep, and crawls onto my lap. I scratch his ears, pulling him up onto my shoulder as I wander over to the kitchen table while my legs are still working on me. Yvonne shakes her head, giving me such a disparaging look I smile at her serenely. I think about splashing my face with water, but I probably can’t look any worse, anyway.

“Your eyes are a different color,” Anya says offhandedly.

I blink. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“They’re not gray anymore?”

“Not really. Kinda greenish.”

Huh. I guess these are fancier than the ones I got from Amerov. I still haven’t dared look at myself in the mirror. Perhaps I should.

“Yvonne, did those doctors tell you if these eyes see heat signatures?”

“Oh!” Yvonne puts her spoonful of some sort of rice down. “Right. They’re going to want to look you over again, sorry about that, probably tomorrow.”

I grimace, but she comes around the table and puts her hands on either side of my face. I wince, still jumpier than I’d like to admit, but she doesn’t mention it. Kind of her. “I told them not to mess with the port on the back of your neck. They don’t know how to work on cyborgs, anyway.”

I shudder at the close call.

“Don’t leave these on until you’re healed. Technically, we were probably supposed to leave the gauze on your face, I hope you know. Right here, they said there as something—ah, this must be it.”

Something clicks gently under her thumbs, and a smooth, easy heat signature ripples over her form. I glance around the room, acclimating to the difference in feel. I blink the certain way I used to that would switch my eyes back and forth before it stopped working, and the heat blinks off. I try a few more times, and it works on demand. 

Forgetting my damaged ribs, I giggle. 

Yvonne grins. “Did it work?”

“Yeah. Perfectly.”

“Great, I’m gonna turn these back off so the doctors don’t yell at me. It’s just this tiny little switch here, feels like the tip of a pen.”

There isn’t much space in the metal beside my eyes, so it makes sense. Bat starts sniffing around my new eyes, poking me with his nose, as Yvonne switches them back off and gives me a peck on the lips, returning to her food. Lalia wiggles her eyebrows at me from behind the princess, and I make another face. Then, thinking about Zane’s words, I gesture for her to sit in the empty seat.

“How ya holding up?” she asks, sliding in beside me.

“No longer dying, so ya know, not bad.”

She rolls her eyes, staring at her wine glass. There’s a faraway look in her eyes, and hidden pain in her expression, same as Zane. I don’t exactly want to bring this up with everyone around, so I bury my discomfort and the fact I would never do this a mere few weeks ago and put my hand on her knee under the table. Carefully, she wraps her fingers between mine and gives them a tight squeeze, not letting go.