Seph stretched his legs. He sat on the cushioned bench in the friends-and-family area outside Antony’s hospital room. The cushion was red and plush, a bright pop of color in contrast to the sterile space on the other side of the glass.

Antony sat in his white chair, his brows furrowed. “The doctor started talking about prosthetics,” he said. The dark circles under his eyes weren’t as pronounced today, and a wave of gray hair curled attractively over his forehead. “If I’m considering one, my plans, and so on.”

“That’s a good sign, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it is.” He didn’t sound convinced. He buried himself in the robe he wore over his pajamas. “But my arm’s gone. I don’t know how I feel about having something else there. And I’m kind of afraid of the hardwired ones. What if it goes rogue and like—“ He grabbed his neck, gagged, and stuck his tongue out.

“Has that ever happened to anyone?”

“I don’t think so. But still.”

Seph shrugged. “Nobody’s going to make you get a hardwired one. There are plenty of prosthetics you can remove.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Antony said.

“Are you excited about getting out of observation tomorrow?”

“I can’t wait.” His voice was light, but his eyes told a different story. They were too wide, his shoulders too rigid. He ran his fingers through his beard and drummed them on his chin. “You don’t know how glad I am that you stuck around.”

“Of course. I know it means something to have someone nearby,” he said.

Antony cleared his throat. “Anyway, where are you heading after this, home? That’s Lythrum-9 for you, right?”

“Yeah, have you been there?”

“Once, a long time ago. It was very green. Your family still lives there?”

Seph nodded. “Yeah, many of them do. My parents, aunts and uncles.”

“Think you’d ever move back to your hometown?”

“Oh god no,” Seph said with a low laugh. “I wouldn’t mind living on Lythrum-9 again, but not in my hometown. There are other cities that are close to family while still maintaining some separation.” He pulled up a hologram on his wearable and sent Antony images of mountains and forests. “I took these on a hiking trip with my cousins,” Seph said. “Lythrum-9 is a colony world, populated for about 500 years. Used to be home to plants, bugs, and fungi, but that’s about it. The population density stayed low and even the larger cities aren’t over-crowded.”

“The photos are gorgeous,” Antony said. “I used to live in a city that was just a mess of skyscrapers. Can’t deal with the people or the noise anymore. It’s impossible for me to hold a conversation.”

“I can imagine.” He folded his arms as memories of loud cafeterias and crowded corridors came to mind. “You know, I worked on a research vessel, developing learning algorithms to make asteroid mining easier. Interesting work, but I couldn’t tolerate the environment.”

“Sleeping on a bunk bed with eight to a room?”

Seph snorted. “Four. Which was three too many roommates for me.”

Antony nodded and leaned forward in his chair. There seemed to be genuine interest in his expression. “How did you get into research vessel work?”

“Bria. After my university shut down, I tried to get another tenure-track job, but it was tough luck. She suggested the research vessel.” Seph wrinkled his nose. “No space, too many people, and an abysmal leave policy. Sure, you could take leave and visit some touristy planet nearby. But Lythrum-9 was a three-day trip, minimum. I signed on for three years and didn’t see my family once during that time.”

Antony pulled a face. “That sounds heinous.”

“You would have hated it. I thought I could put up and shut up if it meant better job opportunities later, but it wasn’t worth it,” Seph said with a scowl. He shook his head like that would clear the malaise from those memories. When he met Antony’s eyes again, the man wore a curious expression. “What is it?” Seph asked.

“You scowled so hard that I felt it in my bones.”

Seph snorted softly, closing his eyes for a moment. “Get to know me better and you’ll get to hear all my stories. Roommates and burnout and bad lab dynamics. Granted, it’s not like I handled myself well while we were planning this expedition.”

“It sure sounded like Bria put stuff on you that she should have handled herself,” Antony said. “And even beyond that, my reactivity was more about me trying to deal with my personal garbage and not feeling so hot.”

“Bria kept talking about how important this expedition was for her. So I started trying to … help, and it made things worse,” Seph said. “Case in point, that fiasco with the microscope.”

Antony shook his head and moved to cross his arms before resting his hand on his stomach instead. “Dude, I have zero grudge toward you for ordering the wrong microscope objective. I get what happened, and I’m so far past that stuff at this point.”

“Well, thank you. That makes me feel better,” Seph said.

He picked up dinner from the cafeteria and headed back to his room. He flopped down on the bed. It felt good when he and Antony talked like that. When Antony looked at him like that, open and honest, and so very attractive with his salt and pepper beard.

He tapped his wearable and the holographic screen popped up in the air above his wrist. There were new messages from Bria. She would be happy to have him if he wanted to visit, and so on and so forth. Stiff and formal, given how long they’d know each other.

Seph didn’t care to think about Bria right now. Instead, he ate his dinner, some sort of meatloaf with vegetables he didn’t recognize but tasted acceptable, nonetheless.

So what if he didn’t know where he was going next? Antony didn’t know where he was going either; it was clear he couldn’t think about his next move until he was out of isolation. Seph wanted off this medical station with its white corridors and too-bright lights and yet he was unable to think about where was going next, either.

He settled under the comforters, idly browsing his old photos from Lythrum-9. As he scrolled, another message from Bria popped up. She wanted to know if she should expect him to stop by soon, since Antony would be out of observation. He grunted and closed the message. “Come on, can’t you just leave it?”

But as he stared at her name, an impulse cropped up. He flipped back to his sent messages from months ago, back from planning the expedition. “My god, this is a bad idea. I should delete these and move on,” he muttered.

He saw three messages he’d sent on the same day. God, he had been so pushy. Kendra’s answers were polite, Antony’s … terse. He scrolled back to a long thread between him and Bria. The subject, Expedition candidates. His stomach sank. Antony didn’t know that Seph had recommended him for this expedition. If Seph hadn’t given Antony’s name to Bria, he wouldn’t have come on this expedition. He wouldn’t have lost his arm.

He closed the messages, took his wearable off his wrist and set it far away, out of reach. Seph curled up in bed, anxiety rising in his chest. He lay there, unable to get comfortable, shifting between his back and side.

Then he was back in the caves, the crystals ebbing and flowing around him. He heard voices, thoughts. Fear, anxiety and desperation. Desolation. Towers rose from the crystals until they hit the ceiling of the room, sending rock raining down around him.

He woke, exhausted. His eyes flicked to the clock. It was midmorning, later than he expected. He spotted a message on his comms from hours ago, and his stomach flipped.

Hey, Antony wrote. I’m out! Lemme know when you’re up.

That’s great! Seph replied. Sorry, just woke up now.

The device buzzed again, before he’d even put it back on his wrist: I’m gonna come by, alright?

He hurried to the bathroom to brush his teeth. He’d barely finished washing remnants of toothpaste off his mouth when there was a knock at the door.

“Heya,” Antony said, smiling up at him. “Finally free.”

“I know!” Seph said. “Come in.”

“Are you alright?” Antony asked, looked at him oddly.

“Yeah, I just didn’t sleep well. So you’re all good to go?”

Antony nodded, leaning against the arm of the couch. “Yep. Good to go as soon as I know where I’m going. Got a few days of grace period to figure out my next move. But god, I need to get out of here.” He ran his fingers across the fabric of the couch. “Anyway, the doctors gave me the official stamp of approval that they don’t know what happened, but I’m stable. Not satisfying at all.”

“Yeah, I know,” Seph said. “That’s … frustrating.”

“Are you sure you’re okay? You seem kind of out of it.”

“There’s something I need to talk to you about. Since I don’t know where you’re going after this,” Seph said, speaking too quickly.

Antony stood up straight. “Oh? Okay.”

Seph rubbed his thumb over his opposite palm. “I know you said everything from planning the expedition was water under the bridge, but I … I never told you I was the one who suggested you for this expedition. Bria only reached out to you after I told her you’d be a good fit.”

“Yeah? I mean, that’s cool you remembered me.”

Seph’s brow furrowed. “It just feels like it’s my fault you ended up here. I know Bria reached out to you multiple times and then asked me for alternate recommendations because she didn’t think you wanted to come. But I insisted she try one more time.”

“What? Yeah, sure, she was pushy, and I got annoyed. But it was still my choice to be here. Nobody forced me.” Antony’s posture changed. The rigidness returned to his shoulders and jaw.

Seph pursed his lips. “That’s not even what I’m getting at. I just, I feel responsible for what happened to you. If you hadn’t been here, you wouldn’t have gotten hurt.”

Antony’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah, and by that same logic, it’s my fault Kendra’s gone,” he snapped.

“What?”

“When I said I’d join the expedition, Bria asked me if I knew anyone who worked in diagnostics. I thought of Kendra,” Antony said. “She was well-qualified, and I knew I wanted to work with her again.”

“It’s not your fault she’s gone,” Seph said automatically.

“Yeah? I know that, but it doesn’t make me feel better. But you can’t tell me this, like it’s some kind of confession and not expect me to feel guilty, too. Because I feel guilty. I feel terrible that you three went back into the ruins on my account,” Antony said. He tried to cross his arms and grunted in frustration at his inability to do so. “So what, you stuck around out of guilt?”

A frigid wave of anxiety washed over Seph. “No,” he said, and his eyes burned. “It wasn’t that, alright?”

Antony stepped closer behind him, but he didn’t turn around, not when he was crying. The bed squeaked as Antony sat down and exhaled a long breath. “I’m sorry,” he said. “This isn’t helping. Did something happen? You were on edge when I got here.”

Seph sat down on the couch, where he could face Antony. “I got worked up last night. Bria’s been asking if I’m coming to see her. I started rereading old messages and I kind of spiraled.”

“Oh. Speaking from experience, I can’t say that ruminating all night helps with anxiety.”

Seph snorted, running his fingers through his hair. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

“Listen, Seph. Going back and dissecting everything in the expedition and before won’t help. That’s a deep hole that I’ve been trying hard not to go down.”

“I’m sorry,” Seph said, and scrubbed his hands over his face. “I did it again—I got worked up, and I made everything worse.”

Antony shook his head. “Don’t do this. I won’t gain anything from you feeling awful about what happened. You, or Bria, for that matter.” He paused. “Is she okay? She was in contact with me recently over logistical stuff, but then it dropped off.”

“I’m worried about her,” Seph said. “She keeps asking me to come visit her, but it’s all weirdly formal.”

“Do you think she doesn’t know how to ask for help?”

“No, I don’t think she does.”

“So, do you want to go see her?” Antony asked.

“I don’t know,” Seph said. “Maybe to make sure she’s alright.”

“To be clear, I don’t think you should work with Bria again. If you see her, I think you need to guard your sanity. But maybe it wouldn’t hurt to show her your support,” Antony said.

Seph nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah. What about you?”

“I don’t know,” Antony said. “I think I need time to figure things out by myself.”

The waiting area was empty save for a few crew members passing through the adjacent hallways. Antony appeared, hauling his suitcase. He wore a plain, light blue button-down shirt and khaki slacks, both a little too baggy.

“Hey,” Antony said, dropping his suitcase and sitting nearby, leaving one seat between them.

“You decide where you’re going, then?” Seph asked.

“Yeah, I’m heading for that moon nearby. Just to stand on solid rock while I figure things out,” Antony said, leaning back. “You talk to Bria?”

“I messaged her, told her I’d stop by. She replied almost immediately with hotel recommendations.”

“Didn’t you live in that town for years?”

“Yep. This is her way of saying, ‘Great! Looking forward to seeing you.’”

“Yeah, okay,” Antony said with a snort.

Silence fell over them. It wasn’t exactly awkward, but there was a tension between them. It surprised him that Antony had even suggested waiting for their flights out together after their disastrous conversation the day earlier.

A woman in a sleek blue suit and tie approached them, her shoes clicking as she walked. A pilot. “Not much of a crowd here today,” she said. “I take it you two are on standby. Are you both headed to Acinos?”

“Just me,” Seph said.

“I’m going that way. Happy to drop you off,” the pilot said, pleasant and businesslike. “Give me forty-five minutes and I’ll get you boarded.”

“Sounds great. Thank you,” Seph said.

“Wow, lucky,” Antony said as the pilot walked away, the sharp cadence of her steps fading down the hall. “I’ve still got a couple of hours.”

“You gonna be okay?”

Antony shot him a weird look, as if to say, What kind of question is that? “Yeah, I think I’ll survive sitting here.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Seph said. The tension returned, more palpable than before. Less than forty-five minutes, and he’d be leaving. Would he ever even see Antony again? It wasn’t like he could blame him if they faded out of contact. Seph was another reminder of everything that had gone wrong.

“Look, I apologize for yesterday. I made things so much worse, and it wasn’t considerate of you,” Seph said.

A pained expression crossed Antony’s face. “It’s fine. I accept your apology, but can we just … not talk about this now?”

“Oh. Okay.”

The silence dragged on until it ended with a tapping noise of increasing frequency. Antony’s shoes clicked against the floor. He angled himself towards Seph. “Man, look, you’re getting on a flight soon. We’re both worked up, and this conversation won’t go well.”

Seph’s eyebrows rose, and he nodded, not meeting Antony’s eyes. “That makes sense. Let’s table it for now.”

Antony ran his fingers through his hair, his mouth twisting into a frown. “God, I don’t know how to do this. Listen, I don’t blame you for anything, so I don’t want you to worry about that. But I know there’s stuff bottled up between us. I’m not suggesting we push it all down and never talk about it. I don’t want you to be a stranger.”

“I don’t either, Antony. And thank you, I appreciate that,” he said.

The time passed in an easier silence until an announcement called for Seph to board. He stood and held out his hand. “Well, I guess this is it for now.”

“C’mere,” Antony said, pulling him into a hug. He was warm and squeezed him tight. “I’ll see you later. Safe travels.”

“You too, Antony,” he said, and he smiled.