Kat Talks to Sonya
The Avenger’s corridors were quiet in the late watch, the hum of the ship a constant backdrop. Kat Kerrigan walked them slowly, mind replaying their first official mission. The prisoners. The Tank Men. The guard that sent everything sideways.
And Sonya’s lie to Alex, to the team.
She’d overheard the last part of Alex’s quiet talk with Sonya in Lab Three—his anger melting into understanding once Sonya explained everything. Alex had left shaken but no longer upset that she lied to him. She had let it go at the time; Sonya was clearly upset about what she had to do.
Still, even after the last mission capturing the transport Kat needed to hear it from Sonya herself and clear the air.
She stopped outside Sonya’s quarters, hesitated, then keyed the chime.
The door hissed open. Sonya stood inside, duty uniform rumpled, eyes shadowed. She looked like she hadn’t slept much. “Kat.”
Kat stepped in, door closing behind her. The room was spartan—table, desk, a few personal items, no photos. She guessed the bedroom would be just as sparse.
Sonya gestured to the small table. “You want a seat?”
Kat did, wincing as her shoulder protested, she must have injured it more than she thought. Sonya sat opposite, hands clasped tight, arms still bandaged and splinted.
Silence stretched.
Kat broke it. “On our first official mission as a team. You lied to Alex about the failed experiments being dead.”
Sonya’s gaze dropped, like she had been waiting for this talk. “Yeah.”
“I heard him talk to you in the lab, but I wanted to hear it from you.”
Sonya’s voice was low, raw as the memory bubbled back to the surface. “If I told him on the op, he’d have gone in anyway. Burned spells trying to heal them. They were beyond that, in unspeakable agony.”
Kat’s throat tightened. “He’s our medic and you didn’t give him the chance to know for sure.”
“I made the hard call so he could save who we could save,” Sonya said quietly. “They begged me. I tried to make it quick, merciful.”
Kat leaned forward. “I get it. I do. But we needed to hear it from you at the time—not during debrief.”
Sonya met her eyes, steady but haunted. “He’s got a good heart, so do you Kat. I didn’t want him carrying that weight. Didn’t want you carrying it either.”
Kat’s expression softened. “Is that why you offered to make the call as to saving the prisoners or not?”
Sonya gave a bitter half-smile. “I’m used to it.”
Kat reached across and touched Sonya’s hand. “We’re a team. Next time—tell us, we carry it together.”
Sonya’s fingers curled around Kat’s, grip tight. “I’m sorry.”
Kat squeezed back. “I know. Just… don’t shut us out.”
They sat like that a moment, the ship’s hum filling the silence.
Finally Kat stood. “Get some rest. You look like hell.”
Sonya managed a faint grin. “Feel like it too.”
Kat paused at the door. “For what it’s worth… we all know you did the right thing. Hard as it was.”
The door closed behind her.
Sonya stared at the bulkhead for a long time. The weight felt a little lighter—but it was not gone. She looked down at her hands.
Some burdens, she thought, were never meant to be shared.
